Come As You Are
by Catopolis
Summary: Looking back, there were many things Sylvia Segovstein would have changed. Her times with Newton Scamander, though? Not for the world. This is a collection of her old memories, from her first meeting with the gentle magizooligist in a warm Hogwarts classroom - to their last bittersweet goodbye on a rainy train station platform in New York. [COMPLETED]
1. Chapter 1

**_Authors Note:_** _New to the fandom here! I've done a fair bit of research, but I'm sure they'll be some discrepancies somewhere along the way - feel free to point them out! Constructive critiscm welcome._

* * *

 _(12th September, 3rd Year)_

It was a suffocating classroom, Sylvia recalled. Small and cluttered with large tomes, vivarium's and glass cabinets of creatures that she could either not pronounce or couldn't care to remember their names in the first place. The teacher, a small, stocky man with a few missing fingers and a lisp that made his words almost incomprehensible, stood at the front stuttering on about the life-cycle of a Flobberworm with an almost embarrassing amount of enthusiasm. Struggling with consciousness, Sylvia attempted to stifle her yawn in the sleeve of her jumper (a poor choice for such a warm day) and was promptly noticed by the professor.

"Segovstein, is it?" He called. For a such a small man, Sylvia noticed, he had a decent set of lungs to produce such a sharp shout. A few students turned their heads towards the tall girl at the back.

"Yes, sir?" She said, straightening her back slightly and removing her head from its perch on her fist.

"Perhaps you could tell me a Flobberworms preferred diet, hm?"

It was only now, the young girl realised, that he was holding one in his hands - it wriggling slightly and making a stomach-churning squelch with every movement. This helped her little. Even though the creature in question was a few metres away, she had not been paying attention since the beginning of class and was caught, as her muggle father liked to say, like a deer in headlights.

She inhaled a breath in preparation for what she hoped would sound like a heartfelt apology, before a voice that was barely a whisper, sounded to her left.

"Vegetation."

Sylvia's breath stopped in her throat and her eyebrow twitched. The voice was so quiet she could barely make out the sound of the syllables. Whilst the act was inherently kind the witch was, at the time, too proud to accept help off another - especially when the mistake had been hers, to begin with. After scolding herself for laziness (her mother would have had her rear for such incompetence) she replied with a honest shrug.

"Really, Segovstein, for such an accomplished duellist you attention span leaves something to be desired!" He huffed and a the students returned their attention to the front with a snicker. "The Flobberworm, especially dear Susan here," He lifted the squirming worm into the air slightly. "Loves cabbage! Now, Flobberworms do not need to..."

Flushing slightly, the redhead looked to her left, and for the first time since she had first arrived at Hogwarts, noticed the also lanky, auburn haired boy sitting next to her. His eyes were glued to the notebook he was scribbling in, ink blotches spotted over his fingers and his nose. She had a distinct feeling he was avoiding her eye contact, as the tips of his ears poking out from his rather unruly hair were turning red.

"Thank you," Sylvia whispered. It was pointless really since she had not accepted his help, but she admired the gesture anyway. His writing hand stopped momentarily, and his eyes flickered up to hers for the briefest of moments before promptly returning to his book.

"It's quite alright." Came a small reply.

What remained of the lesson dragged on without any other incident, apart from a girl squealing inherently loud when asked to handle Susan. Sylvia's eyes met with the strange boy for one last time as they were packing their books away, and as would become the norm, he looked away first.

* * *

 _(12th September, 3rd Year)_

The Great Hall bustled with activity, as was it's custom every dinner. Sylvia didn't enjoy eating with the rest of the school, finding the noise to give her a migraine that wouldn't leave until the morning - but she felt drawn there that day. She wasn't sure if it was by divine intervention, or by her rather annoying and insatiable blonde-haired friend with an aptitude for pointless conversation and gossip. He was a small, chubby boy with a questionable northern accent, and whilst at the beginning of their friendship Sylvia had tried to distant herself from him, he only proceeded to hover closer with a stubbornness that the witch had begun to admire and curse simultaneously. Though the smell of chicken dinner, Malvin's pomade, and his father's aged aftershave made her nose crinkle, with his (somewhat) gentle insistence, they made their way to the Gryffindor table and sat down on opposite sides.

"-and she just wouldn't shut up about that dark-haired lad from her Divination class! Honestly, I thought my ears were going to detach from my skull and walk away." He spooned a large serving of potatoes onto his plate, before reaching for the bowl of boiled carrots.

"Hm, I can imagine how that would be annoying." She avoided his stare as she reached for a jug of water. Malvin simply rolled his eyes and continued his conversation.

"How was your magical creatures class anyway? Andrew told me it was right boring. Then again, there's not a lot Andrew finds exciting, so I didn't believe him at first-"

"We learned about Flobberworms." Sylvia cut in as she idly moved peas around her plate.

"No more needs to be said." Malvin giggled as he shovelled another portion of sprouts onto his plate. Slyvia eyed his gluttony curiously.

"By you, I hope."

"Ha, ha." He laughed sarcastically. "Sylvia the Cynic, that should be your name you know."

Sylvia's smiled, and as her eyes flicked upwards for just a second, they locked onto another pair across the hall. She recognised him this time, though, but as was his custom - his eyes flicked back down first, his cheeks reddening.

"Who's that?" Sylvia found herself asking.

Malvin looked up mid-shovel, mouth already full and giving Sylvia a fine view of its mushy contents. He followed Sylvia's eye line to the same boy a table behind him.

"Him?" He pointed with his head, his hands too busy reloading his fork.

She nodded in reply.

Malvin racked his mind for a second. "Newt, I think? I know he's a Scamander - he's Theseus' little brother." She had no real recollection of who Theseus was but nodded anyway. "If I remember right he's the one obsessed with creatures and stuff. A bit odd if you ask me," No one ever did of course. "But each to their own."

Sylvia noticed he sat a foot or two away from the rest of his house and hitched an eyebrow. "I take it he doesn't have many friends?"

"Nah, people think he's a bit weird." Both of the witch's eyebrows raised at this. "He don't talk much."

"He seems nice enough. A bit... shy, I suppose." She thought out loud. Malvin's eyes slowly raised from his plate to find Slyvia staring past him again.

"People are going to start thinking _you're_ weird if you don't stop staring at people like that."

"I wasn't staring. Merely... evaluating." It was a poor lie and Sylvia knew it, but she couldn't help but find herself a little curious at the boys... quirks.

The boy now known as Newt left before they did – alone, his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him as he weaved past the crowds of people by the entrance, unnoticed. Sylvia felt a slap upon her hand.

"For goodness sake, Sylvia."

* * *

 _(23rd October, 3rd Year)_

The Defence Against The Dark Art's class was where Sylvia felt most comfortable. She prided herself on her wand work as her mother made sure it was the focus of her efforts. This week it was different, though, and as if her vision had been widened she began to notice how the Hogwart's professors liked to seat the students alphabetically. She soon realised whenever the Gryffindor's shared a class with the Hufflepuff's, there he was seated next to her. She didn't really mind, of course, until the DATDA classes began to take on a more practical approach. Then she felt as if she was sitting next to a walking train-wreck.

They were attempting to learn a Lumos Duo Charm to defend against Hinkypunks, and whilst Sylvia had grasped it rather quickly, her wand producing a bright light that was almost blinding, Newt was appearing to have a bit of difficulty. She observed him quietly out of the side of her eye as he struggled, knocking off his books and ink-pot in the process. Sylvia fiddled with her wand for a moment and hoped the Professor would notice his struggle, but she was too busy scolding a boy who thought it would be funnier to try and poke his wand down his friend's ear. She glanced at Newt again.

"Try pointing your wand instead of flicking it." She said as gently as her voice would manage over the bustle of the room. She hoped she didn't sound condescending, but she was beginning to worry he might blow something up – namely herself.

His gaze flitted to her quickly, as was his custom. He sat stationary for a second, his arm not moving, until he took a small breath (of what she presumed was courage) and tried again. He dipped his wand downwards and to the right, before pointing outwards this time instead of flicking, and sure enough a small, yet bright light emitted from his wand. It wasn't particularly bright enough to do its duty, she noted, but it was a light none-the-less and she was happy that no-one had gotten hurt in the process – namely herself again.

Sylvia let out the breath she was well aware she was holding and relaxed. She chanced a look at his face and saw a lop-sided smile break out as he looked at his wand. His eyes flicked towards her again, staring more at her side of the desk rather than her being, and muttered a small thank you.

"A turn for a turn, I suppose," Sylvia said, more to herself than to him. It was only when she looked to him again she could see the puzzlement in his features. "It's something my father used to say." Still the same look. "He was a muggle."

The look finally changed into one of understanding and he smiled once again. "Both my parent's are magical. I-I still don't understand many muggle things..." He said timidly and with a rather nervous laugh at the end, but it was more than the murmur he usually spoke in.

Sylvia was partly surprised that he could speak in full sentences too, and she felt as if she was hearing him for the first time. "Lucky you," Sylvia said with a small chuckle. "My father still won't accept any mail by owl."

"Why?" Newt questioned. "A well-trained owl is perfectly capable of carrying mail and-" He seemed to catch himself as if his vocal word-count had reached its limit for the day and he quickly clamped his mouth shut and averted his eyes from her own.

"I suppose it's a muggle thing," Sylvia said with a shrug. "He doesn't trust many magical things - he still jumps when he sees laundry folding itself." She let out a small laugh again and Newt joined her coyly with his one-sided smile.

"I'm Sylvia, by the way." He seemed surprised by the sudden introduction but introduced himself too.

"I'm N-Newt."

Why anyone would find him weird was, at the time, currently beyond Sylvia's imagination. Shy, perhaps, but not weird.

* * *

 _(8th November, 3rd Year)_

"Are you going home for Christmas?"

This was one of the rare times Newt had started the conversation. Sylvia had, over time, found he was more confident in their Care of Magical Creatures class. He rarely spoke up in class discussion, but if the teacher (who had lost another finger by now and nearly his leg) was struggling for anyone to participate, he always picked Newt, knowing he would have the correct answer and save them all from more silence and awkward glances.

"Yes, my father was planning on returning to Germany for Christmas, but he changed his mind..." She trailed off, and Newt looked at her oddly. Her mother and father were German but chose to move to the UK shortly before Sylvia was born. From what the young witch was aware of, things in central Europe had started getting tense for certain wizards. She still didn't have a full understanding of it, and approaching her mother only yielded her with a quick dismissal. _'You have far more important stuff to be worrying about, Sylvia_ ,' her mother would snap. Her parents kept her away from newspapers too.

They were walking as a class to the Forbidden Forest. Winter had settled in properly, and they were walking in knee-deep snow. The bitterness didn't seem to affect many, though, as they were to meet the most exciting creature so far– a Hippogriff. It was certainly a lot more interesting than feeding a Flobberworm or trying not to get burnt off of a Salamander. Newt was especially excited. Sylvia had learned a few weeks ago his mother bred Hippogriff's, so she presumed he already knew everything to know about these creatures. She was correct.

"Are you?" The returning question caught him off guard (as did most of her questions) for a second but he recovered quickly. He nodded in response.

"We normally spend a large portion of it with the Hippogriffs." He laughed. "My mother even prepares them a roast dinner too."

They both chuckled.

* * *

 _(7_ _th_ _March, 3_ _rd_ _Year)_

"Honestly, Segovstein, are you even listening?" Malvin clicked his fingers rudely in front of Sylvia's face. They both sat on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. Most students were at the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin quidditch match, and Sylvia used these quiet opportunities to work by the wood-fire. Today, though, she had clearly misjudged.

"To you? I try not to." She was reading through her essay from her last Care of Magical Creatures class. It was a rough draft, and she was paying more attention to the messy scrawls at the sides of the pages. She had asked Newt to review it, and he had accepted gladly (rather enthusiastically, Sylvia thought) and his corrections and tweaks were written in the corners. Whilst he was timid and quiet in the flesh, on the page he was rather ruthless. _Unnecessary information. Stay on track. Salamander blood –_ this was underlined - _has regenerative abilities, not their fire. Mention scale rot for + marks.  
_  
"You're doing it again! Did you hear anything I just said?" She hadn't.

"Keep frowning like that and you're going to get wrinkles, you know," Malvin spoke up after a moment's silent. Sylvia knew if she ignored his presence for long enough he would get bored and start gossiping to someone else.

"Did you know a Salamander's blood had curative properties?" Sylvia said.

"No, but I'm not taking Care of Magical Creatures, am I? I thought you didn't care for any of it, anyway?" It was the first time the witch had heard his voice laced with suspicion.

"It's not too bad." She muttered.

"Hm." He hummed, placing his hands together on his lap whilst staring into the fire, looking the picture of innocence.

"What?" Sylvia said, looking at him fully for the first time since he had sat down.

"Nothing."

"No, that was an accusatory 'hm'." She raised an eyebrow.

"It wasn't."

"Yes, it was." She accused.

"I just think that yellow is a perfectly cheerful colour." He hummed happily. Sylvia threw a pillow at him, thumping him squarely in the chest.

* * *

 _(18_ _th_ _June, 3_ _rd_ _Year)_

The two tall wizards (as people had by then begun to call Newt and Sylvia) grew closer over time. Sharing small conversations, learning small things about one another in the few classes they shared. It was normally Sylvia that instigated their talks, and it never failed to make her head spin how much different Newt was from Malvin. She found it refreshing, almost. Their third year was starting to draw to a close and with the small end of year exams and assessments, Sylvia found herself in the library most of the time (when she could break away from Malvin's presence). Whilst DATDA was a class she was fairly confident in, the assessments she was finding to be a great deal trickier. Apparently, it was easier for her to cast a charm to deter a creature rather than learn where it originated from. Newt, it seemed, was having the same problem.

Sylvia found herself enthralled in a book about werewolves when she heard shuffling next to her. It was so quiet she thought it was an echo from the deeper parts of the library until she heard someone clear their throat. She looked up and flinched, not expecting someone to be standing right next to her. For such a tall person, she found he could be awfully quiet when he wanted to be.

"Oh, hello, Newt." She said, rather surprised that out of all the people she knew that it was Newt to be standing there, clutching a few small tomes to his chest. They rarely spoke outside of the classroom, and Sylvia wasn't sure if the same etiquette applied.

Newt shuffled from foot to foot again before tearing his eyes away from his shoes and locking eyes with her.

"I-I," He cleared his voice once again and took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you could... well, I'm not really good at charms and... I'm more proficient at creatures – I mean caring for them of course, and I'm not so well-versed in wand-work and I... what I'm meaning to say is..." A silence fell and Newt stood still with his mouth slightly agape.

"You would like... me to help?" Sylvia said, after a moment of trying to piece together what he was trying to say.

"Yes." He said in a nervous exhale, looking at her from underneath his mop of auburn locks.

"Sure?" She replied, and the relief was clear on his face. He gestured towards a seat next to her in a silent question. "Take a seat, I suppose."

Newt, in a supposed eagerness to sit down, knocked some nearby books on the floor in the process. His gangly frame quickly reached down to pick them back up, in turn dropping the books he already had, growing ever more flustered with each passing moment.

"Here," Sylvia said, bending down to help pick some up. The silence that fell upon them grew a little too uncomfortable for her tastes. "So, um, what do you exactly need help with?" They finished clearing the books up, and Sylvia made sure they were pushed a safe distance away.

"Most of it, really." He let out another nervous puff of air. "I can g-grasp the lore pretty well, but I can't really..." He trailed off.

"Wave your wand without taking someone's eye out?" Sylvia said with a small, knowing smile.

"Yes." Newt laughed slightly.

"I suppose I could help? I'm not a teacher, but I'm sure we can work something out." She reached to her side and removed a book from the pile. "This has some charms we could practice, nothing impressive, but enough to please the professor."

"Brilliant," Newt said, hoping to disguise the nervousness in his voice with excitement.

"On one condition," Sylvia added. She saw his face freeze. Reaching behind her, she took out a large book that had fur, teeth and a very apt name. _The Monster Book of Monsters._ "If you could help me with this?"

It was the first time Sylvia had seen his face visibly light up with enthusiasm. "Of course!" He recalled himself quickly, but she couldn't help the little laugh that burst from her lips. This seemed to put him at ease, though, and his shoulders relaxed.

* * *

 _(19_ _th_ _July, 3_ _rd_ _Year)_

Sylvia made her way along the train's carriages, her body sluggish and tired after the end of year finals. Her grades were pleasing (aside from her potions class, though) but her mother would no doubt make her the awful Spätzle that reminded her of maggots as a celebratory dish anyway. As she sidled past older years (whom she was slightly embarrassed to be almost as tall as them), she peeked into each cabin looking for an available seat. Malvin had already said he would save her one, but she couldn't bear the thought of a five-hour train ride listening to his annual review of the year. She had almost reached the end of the carriages until she spotted an almost empty compartment with just a lone figure. Sylvia had trouble discerning who it was at first, as their face was shielded by a large book. It was his hair that gave him away. She hesitated for a second, not sure if it would be a little too uncomfortable for a long train ride. Newt wasn't the easiest of her talking companions. She looked to her left and right.

Years later, she realised, she took that compartment out of pity. She was glad she did either way.

He didn't seem to notice her entrance at first, as she slid the compartment door closed again, shutting out the noise behind it.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" She asked, as he still hadn't looked up.

Sylvia knew by now he was far too polite to say anything other than yes, but she thought she would ask anyway. She had learned his certain 'tells' by now and could safely tell what made him uncomfortable or uneasy.

Newt lifted his head from his book, a frown on his features until he noticed the girl standing in front of him, to which his eyebrows shot up in a look of surprise. "O-of course!"

Sylvia gave a small thank you, before sitting down opposite him. She placed her hands in her lap, feeling slightly awkward as he returned back to his book. It was now she wondered what she normally did on the train rides back home, and she realised she mainly stared out of the window as Malvin ranted on about someone's relationship, or his personal favourite, their breakup. Finding herself the instigator of a conversation was something she still found odd, but what was even stranger was that she was normally interested in what Newt had to say. With Malvin, she would zone out nearly immediately.

"I got full marks on the Salamander paper." She said after a minute of thick silence, broken only by Newt turning a page. He looked up at her again, not quite sure where she was going with the conversation. "The one you proof-read for me? The professor pulled me aside and accused me of copying." She chuckled quietly. "Thank you for that. I'm sure I would have failed that assessment if it weren't for you."

Newt shook his head. "N-no, I'm sure you would have passed even without my help."

Sylvia raised an eyebrow with a half-smile. "Did you even believe that?"

The boy went to defend his words, thinking he had offended her in some way (he did this often, she found) until he saw her small smile. The corner of his mouth flicked upwards slightly, but he seemed deep in thought about something. He dog-eared the page in his book. Sylvia knew better than to push and ask what was troubling him, this only ever flustered him, so she patiently waited.

"Why did you choose Care of Magical Creatures as your elective?" He paused before quickly adding. "If y-you don't mind me asking."

Sylvia had to hide her smile at what he was implying. Even after a year, she still understood very little about creatures. It made her potion-work look outstanding.

She shrugged. "I wasn't particularly interested in the other options, I suppose." Newt nodded once in understanding. He was good at not pushing questions. Either that, Slyvia thought, or Malvin was tremendously bad at it. "I just presumed it would be a little more..."

"Interesting?" Newt finished.

"Yes," Sylvia said, a little sheepishly. She knew it was Newt's favourite subject, anyone could see that. Noticing the slight look of hurt (or it could have been embarrassment), she continued on. "I-I presume next year will be a little more enticing, though. We learn about Unicorns and... what are they called..." She couldn't think of the name but she knew what they looked like – like a platypus with fur, but she doubted Newt even knew what a platypus was.

"Nifflers."

Sylvia clicked her figures. "Yes! Thank you, I would have been tormenting myself all the way back to London about that. My mother said her family had one as a child, but they had to release it after it stole and hid her mother's earrings."

Newt laughed a little at this. "They are notoriously attracted to shiny things. I once sprained my ankle tripping on a Niffler burrow. Did you know they can burrow as deep twenty feet bellow ground?"

The obvious answer was 'no', but Sylvia decided to indulge him. For such a creature-enthusiast, it was very rare Newt talked about them with her outside of class. Even when he did, he always seemed to trail off and apologise – she presumed this was out of habit - and she would try and re-ignite his flow, but he would always cut it short by saying something like _'it's rather boring anyway'_ or ' _it's not that interesting'_. This always hurt her a little. She wondered how many times someone had rudely cut him off.

"No, I didn't." She knew next to nothing about the creatures if she was honest. Sylvia racked her brain for anything she could add. "My, uh, mother said they were rare in Germany, that they come from, well, here."

She saw his eyes light up a little and she would be lying if she said it didn't make her slightly happy.

"Y-yes, I was just reading about them actually." He turned his book slightly so that Sylvia could see the chapters title. _'Nifflers and other tremendously tricky creatures'_. There was a little illustration at the top of the beast in question.

"They're cute. I don't think I'd have the heart to take my necklace back away from one." She said jokingly.

"They are, aren't they?" It was the first time she had seen him fully smile as he displayed the book proudly.

"Do you know much else about them?" Sylvia asked, slightly shyly. She expected him to deter the conversation with his usual shake of the head and 'they're not that interesting', but instead he looked at her – fully this time. Not a glance or a flicker of the eyes, a full stare. Sylvia felt rooted to her spot for a second.

"What, um, would you like to know?"

She presumed this was a very big 'yes'.

For five hours they talked non-stop. Sylvia actually found herself struggling to keep up at some moments, but she looked like she was listening intently the whole way through. It wasn't difficult, but this was the first time Newt had spoken so casually since... ever, and Sylvia wanted to make sure he knew she valued his words. They stopped temporarily for lunch and talked idly about what they had planned over the holidays, before resuming their talks about creatures once again. She hadn't the foggiest idea most of the time what creature he was talking about, and he went off on many tangents throughout their conversation, but she reckoned as they pulled into King's Cross Station that she could tell the professor a thing or two next year.

As they collected their trolleys Sylvia said her quick goodbyes and well-wishes to a quite angry Malvin, who eyed her and Scamander suspiciously. Sylvia craned her head upwards and saw her mother standing towards the back of the large crowd of families.

"Is that your mother?" Newt said, quite clearly more confident after his five-hour lesson of magical creatures and their hundred year backstory. "You have her height."

Sylvia laughed at this. "It quite handy for finding her in a crowd."

"I presume that's your family?" She saw a friendly looking woman, with dark red hair standing next to a tall man with a large smile and much darker hair. They were fussing over an older boy, at least sixteen or seventeen, who shared familiarities with Newt.

"Yes and my brother." There was a slight distaste in his voice, she noticed. Sylvia presumed this was the Theseus that Malvin had mentioned.

She could see her mother crossing her arms, a knowing look on her face as she impatiently tapped her foot. Her ginger hair was darkening, as it always did when she began to grow impatient. Sylvia still wasn't sure if this was magic or just her mother. "I'd better be off anyway." Newt spotted her mother and saw the same look she did.

"Yes, of course."

"Have a good holiday, Newt. I'll see you after the break." He seemed to blanch a little at this, to Sylvia's surprise.

"S-Sure! Definitely."

Sylvia smiled at his eagerness and began pushing her trolley towards her mother, turning around once to wave goodbye to him, half surprised to see him still standing there. He returned the wave awkwardly, quickly lowering his hand before walking to his respective family.

 _I suppose he is slightly odd._ She thought as she neared her mother. Though she couldn't, for the life of her, figure out how it was a bad thing.


	2. Chapter 2

_(20_ _th_ _August, 3_ _rd_ _Year - 4_ _th_ _Year)_

The summer holidays had been uneventful, as they always had been. Europe's tensions in the muggle world had begun to rise now and, under Sylvia's mother's instance, they had opted to stay in England for the six weeks. They had not returned to Germany since Sylvia was very small, and she was keen to return, but her mother would not be persuaded.

The first ten days were solitary bliss for the young witch, enjoying her own company for a while and catching up with the mountainous amount of homework her classes had set her for the new term.

But as every only child did, Sylvia began to grow bored and restless after a couple of weeks and had begged her mother (formally known as Hanna Segovstein) day and night to take her on a tour of the Ministry. Her mother who was an Auror, and a rather skilled one at that, had shaken her head and looked at Sylvia as if the very thought was disgusting. Her father had peaked his eyes above the newspaper (a traditional muggle paper, as usual) and shared a dark look with his wife. "Goodness, no, child." She said, putting down her coffee mug with an unusually uncertain grip. "Not with everything as it is." It was her mother's word, and that was that.

So Sylvia had spent the rest of her time off reading her books and writing essays, more out of boredom than care for her education. It was times like those, that she detested being an only child.

There was, she remembered, a rather weird conversation that Sylvia had with her mother one day after the young red-head had asked for help with the pronunciation of a particularly tricky charm. Hanna had demonstrated the spell with ease, after commenting how long it had been since she had last cast it (which Sylvia thought was a little boastful), before staring at Sylvia with a hard look.

"Who was that boy you were with - at the train station?" (She rarely called it Kings Cross Station, her German pronunciation had trouble with the syllables.)

The question took Sylvia by surprise, as she hadn't mentioned him at all, and that instance was several weeks ago by then.

"Newton Scamander?"

"Ah, his brother is Theseus, yes? I had a brief conversation with his mother once at the Ministry, whilst she was buying another breeding permit. A peculiar family." Hanna laid her wand on Sylvia's bed gently, almost as if it might break.

Sylvia briefly wondered why she thought they were 'peculiar', but then she remembered that her mother still thought the idea of Briton's using so much sugar in their tea was 'peculiar'.

"You think of him often." Her mother simply stated, and this caught Sylvia by such surprise that she was sure if Headmaster Dippet came flying through the window wearing nothing but suspenders she would greet it with more clarity.

"What?" Hanna gave her a knowing look, one that Sylvia was sure meant that her mother was trying to read her thoughts. She rarely blushed, but she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.

"He seems nice enough, though. A bit-"

"He's not peculiar, mother." The girl cut in before she could finish. This was normally a big taboo, but her mother apparently seemed in a playful mood. Temporarily.

Her mother gave a quaint smile. "Enough of this, hm? Show me how you would deter a..." She thought for a second. "Hinkypunk?"

Sylvia wondered if the owner of Flourish and Blott's would sell a book on Occlumency to a fourth-year.

* * *

 _(30_ _th_ _August, 4_ _th_ _Year)_

"I hate apparating." Sylvia groaned, clinging onto her mother's arm weakly as they arrived outside the Leaky Cauldron. Her stomach was still doing flips, and her limbs felt as if they had been wrapped around her body several times and twisted. It was two days before Sylvia returned to school, and they had come to Diagon Alley for some last minute shopping and 'business' as Hanna had put it. No doubt Ministry work, but Sylvia didn't mind knowing she would be able to buy her own things without her mother fussing over anything.

They entered the pub, her mother first with Sylvia following close behind. The bartender greeted Hanna with a nod before she turned to her daughter.

"Head on without me, child." Sylvia detested her mother calling her that in public, but the coin purse that was put in her hand lightened the blow. "I'll find you when I'm finished." Sylvia gave no complaint and headed out the back and into Diagon Alley on her own, feeling very much an adult (she had the height).

She headed into her required stores and was even more thankful as she walked into Slug and Jiggers Apothecary that her mother wasn't with her. For three years running her mother had stopped and talked to the owner for twenty minutes. That still didn't stop him from asking the young witch about her. She muttered something trivial about her mother being in good health, collected her ingredients and quickly left the shop. Her arms were now full with four new books and a bag of something that smelt absolutely putrid - but needed nonetheless.

Half an hour had passed, and Sylvia was beginning to wonder what her mother was doing. Deciding to walk back to the entrance and wait for her there, Sylvia weaved between the crowd of wizards lost in her own mind. So deep in trivial thoughts, she almost collided into a tall witch striding along the cobblestone and had to dive out of the way, nearly throwing her books into the air.

"Oh, I'm so sorry dear!" She placed a hand on the girl's shoulder and checked if she was alright. Sylvia nodded and mumbled an apology before she went to briskly walk away, flushing slightly at her absent-mindedness - but was stopped by a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"You must forgive my abruptness, dear, but I can't help but wonder... are you Sylvia?" She asked nicely. The woman had a warm presence and a smile that looked as if it could open locks.

"Y-yes..." Sylvia said awkwardly, still not sure how to talk to adults who weren't professors. "Are... you a friend of my mothers?" This wasn't the first instance she had been stopped, many commented on how she and her mother looked alike.

"Well, I've talked to her once, but the reason I'm asking is... you're friends with my son – Newton?"

It clicked as soon as Mrs. Scamander had finished talking. From this distance, she could see the similarities. Auburn hair, kind green eyes and a dash of freckles across her nose and cheeks.

"Yes." Sylvia went to add 'I suppose', but thought better of it when she saw the worried expression in the lady's eyes. "Yes, I am."

"Is he... he's doing alright in school, isn't he?" Sylvia stood doe-eyed for a minute, not sure how to respond, but his mother continued. "I know I must seem like a mother hen," She laughed heartily. "But I've been a little worried that he's not making many friends. He hasn't really spoken of many people, apart from you of course, and I just wanted to make sure he was getting on alright."

"I supp-" She cut herself short quickly. _Be polite, Sylvia,_ she thought. "Yes." She said simply. "He's very... enthusiastic in our Care of Magical creatures class, everyone constantly turns to him for advice," Sylvia added with a small smile. It wasn't a complete lie, but it was certainly better than saying her son was a complete loner who was currently living in his brother's shadow.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Mrs. Scamander squawked. "See? I've been worrying for nothing! Thank you, dear. You've put a mother's mind at rest!" She gave a hearty slap on Sylvia's shoulder. Her warm, welcoming presence was much different from her mother's somewhat standoffish one.

Sylvia tried her hardest to smile through her grimace. Luckily, out of the corner of her eye, she saw her own mother approaching from the brick wall. It was hard not to notice her really, her height made her impossible not to spot.

"Ah, there you are!" Her mother called, her thick accent sticking out amongst the crowd. She walked over, heels clicking loudly against the cobblestone before placing an arm on her daughters back. Hanna noticed the woman standing next to her, and it took her a moment to recognise her. "Oh, hello, Mrs. Scamander!" Her mother greeted cheerily. This was her work voice, Sylvia noticed.

"Mrs. Segovstein, may I say you have a wonderful daughter! So polite!" She cooed.

"I do?" Hanna said, with a sharp rise of a heavily plucked eyebrow. She stared at the woman for a moment before correcting herself. "I mean, yes, of course." She straightened her back and looked like a farmer showing off a prized cow. "I'm afraid we must be off, anyway. It was lovely seeing you again."

"Of course, and anytime you want to visit us, Sylvia, don't you hesitate! It'll do Newt some good to spend some time away from the Hippogriffs and with actual witches and wizards. Goodbye, Mrs. Segovstein!"

With a firm pressure her mother guided Sylvia back towards the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, and when Newt's mother was out of earshot, muttered to Sylvia.

"You can't tell me you don't find _her_ peculiar."

"I don't know," Sylvia thought out loud. "I thought she was quite nice."

* * *

 _(1st September, 4th Year)_

The train ride back to Hogwarts was, in one word, painful. Sylvia had hoped to find Newt and maybe catch up about the holidays. She also wanted to tell him about his mother (leaving out the part where his mother had told her of Newt talking about her a lot), and she was sure they'd share a laugh about it – but she was collared by Malvin before she could look in all the compartments. Before she had even sat down, he had told her all about his trip to Wales, his dinner fiasco with his family (and a raccoon), his sister's new boyfriend and premature breakup and then rounded everything up with a riveting tale about his father's missing loafer. Sylvia sighed and resorted to staring out of the window, but found she couldn't even have that luxury since it was raining outside and the windows had fogged up – no doubt from the hot air Malvin was currently exhuming.

When they had finally arrived, Sylvia spent the rest of her energy unpacking before dinner, thanking the heavens for the girls-only dormitory and some reprieve from Malvin. She checked her pocket watch (an odd gift from her mother for a young girl on her twelfth birthday) and realised she had a little time before the start of year dinner.

She needed to send her mother the letter she requested every term - just a note saying she had arrived all right. Looking outside of the small alcove window, she noticed the still-dismal weather. There was no possible way around it, so she made sure she had her wand and began to make her way down the castle and across the grounds to the owlery – quickly. Her mother had taught how to make an umbrella with her wand, and Sylvia was never more thankful that magic existed up until that point.

Reaching the tower, she pulled her robes tighter around herself, finding the draught in the owlery to be more severe than it usually was. Climbing to the top, where she knew her mother's owl would be angrily waiting, she withdrew the note she had scrawled back in the Gryffindor dormitory. She attached it carefully to the owl's foot, dodging its harsh nips.

"Ow! For goodness sake, Adalard, I'm going as fast as I can." Her slowly-numbing fingers fumbled with the clasp around the dark- feathered bird's foot, and unfortunately, her mother's owl was a notoriously impatient one. Finally attaching the note, she sent the bird on its way.

"Good riddance." Sylvia sighed, sucking on her finger.

"Not a fan of owls?" A voice spoke from behind her.

Sylvia nearly jumped a foot in the air and spun around, finding no other than a thoroughly drenched Newt standing next to what she presumed was his owl. She quickly removed her finger from her mouth with a small pop.

"Oh my – how long have you been there?" She asked quickly, hoping he didn't see her cursing at an owl.

"Since you came running in." He said, a little shyly. "I wondered who that owl belonged to – quite nasty isn't he?"

"Yes." Sylvia breathed out, absent-mindedly rubbing her finger. "He's as good as gold to my mother, though."

A silence descended upon, as Newt stroked his owl, cooing at it quietly.

"I take it you forgot your umbrella?" She gestured at his clothes, not a hundred-percent sure he knew what an umbrella was. It was a muggle contraption, after all, and she had not forgotten his pure-blood roots.

His cheeks were already red from the cold wind, but they seemed to deepen even more as he took in his own appearance. Sylvia chuckled quietly, and this seemed to comfort him slightly as a small smile spread across his face.

"We should probably be heading back, dinner starts soon, and you should probably... change." Newt nodded in agreement and they began to head back down the tower and to the entrance.

The rain had not let up since her arrival, and Sylvia groaned as they stood in the entrance. The heavens had apparently decided to empty themselves in the five minutes it had taken to send a message by owl. Newt went to walk straight out, and Sylvia admired his bravery for stepping out into torrential rain unprotected – but she wouldn't accept it. She quickly grasped his arm as he went to leave and he stared at her wide-eyed.

"Here." She cast the spell her mother had taught her, and an invisible umbrella appeared from the tip of her wand. It was relatively big, more than enough cover for herself, but just enough for herself and Newt. "No use catching a cold."

He stared wondrously at the magic. "I'll have to learn that." He said under his breath.

"My mother taught it me, it getting on for autumn and all." They stepped out together and began to walk back to the main building. "I'll teach you if you want."

"I think that would be wise." He chuckled.

* * *

 _(October 12th, 4th Year)_

The Great Hall.

Fast approaching to be Sylvia's least favourite place. It was relatively quiet in the morning, she noted and was pleased to find barely twenty students down early enough – mostly those keen to catch up with school work. With her books grasped under her right arm, she sat down at the Gryffindor table, a seat or two away from the nearest group – who were currently chatting excitedly about the upcoming quidditch team try-outs. Quidditch didn't appeal to Sylvia, who without a doubt was the worst rider she knew. She blamed it on her gangly frame which she had yet to grow properly into, though it was mainly because she preferred her two feet to be on the ground at all times.

Opening her potions book whilst spooning some scrambled eggs onto her plate, her eyes flicked up and noticed a small commotion by the Hufflepuff table. The others on her table did too, apparently, and quickly hushed in hopes for some more gossip to talk about at lunch. There were two Slytherin's there, recognising them from her Care of Magical Creatures class, standing in front of someone who she couldn't see. A glass was knocked on the floor with a clatter, and Sylvia craned her head to see what poor soul they were clearly tormenting. Her mouth hung agape when she saw the tall, freckled boy whom she had begun to know quite well, sitting anxiously. She couldn't hear what he was saying in return, but she could see his lips form into what looked like some sheepish apologies. A strange feeling welled up in Sylvia's stomach, something she could only put close to anger, and she quickly closed her book and went to stand. Her hands were shaking. Her standing, though, was abruptly halted by a firm hand, and she turned around to bark at whoever it was – feeling very much brave with a rush of adrenaline.

It was Professor Dumbledore, a fairly young, kind teacher with intense, pale blue eyes. Sylvia could never much stand his stare in her Tranfisugration classes, it was soft yet piercing, and quickly averted her eyes and sat back down. He gave one, soft pat on her shoulder before walking over to the group, placing his hands on each of the Slytherin's shoulders as if they were all great friends. The two boys froze instantaneously, not from magic but fear, and mumbled something to both Dumbledore and Newt -eyes fixated on their shoes. They quickly departed from the Great Hall, cheeks red and rubbing their shoulders as if they had been burnt. The rest of the hall returned to their breakfast, a group of Slytherin's behind her huffed in annoyance, cursing the Transfiguration teachers name.

Dumbledore had a brief chat with the boy, and Newt cast a quick glance at Sylvia. For the first time, she averted her eyes first, as she stacked her books neatly together. She found she wasn't as hungry anymore, and her hands still shook slightly. She tucked her work materials back under her arms, and left the Great Hall - but she did not carry on walking to her first class. Waiting by a column some distance away from the entrance, but where she had a clear view of it, she held her books close to her chest. Classes were due to start soon, and sure enough, the Great Hall began to empty itself as students walked past barely acknowledging Sylvia's tall presence. For a tall girl, she found she could blend into the background fairly well. Newt walked past, on his own as always, and Sylvia quickly caught up to him, walking in his stride. He did a double-take when he saw her walking next to him.

"Are you alright?" She asked quietly, casting a sideways glance at him. He nodded a little too enthusiastically to be believable. "What did they want?" She asked again. _A fist in the mouth_ is what she thought straight after.

"Oh, just some help with our assignment on the origins of Unicorns." He said, trying to pass off Sylvia's concern with a wave of his hand. It didn't work. "Well, t-they more wanted me to write it for them, and I said I was quite busy to which they became a little... angry."

"I'm glad Dumbledore stepped in." She said as they began to descend down to their potions class in the dungeons. More so, she thought, because she wasn't quite sure what she would have done had she walked over to them. Something rash and stupid, probably.

"He's a good teacher," Newt commented.

Sylvia hummed her agreement as they walked into their class and began to set up their cauldrons. But a teacher isn't always around, she thought, as they spied the same one of the two boys walking in. He cast a sneer at Newt, which he didn't notice because he was far too busy trying to get his fire started, but Sylvia did. Hers and the boy's eyes briefly met, and Sylvia tried her hardest to emulate the look her mother would give her when she misbehaved. It was an intense stare from under her lashes, and it still worked on Sylvia to that day. The boy, a small chubby thing with sunken eyes and a slight overbite, joined his partner in crime over at their table. He muttered something under his breath and they all laughed before they glanced at Sylvia and Newt. She straightened her posture and stuck out her chin, her mother would never see her bend to the will of a bully, and continued to talk to her friend casually.

She kept her eye on them throughout the class, though, whilst Newt helped prevent her from blowing up the classroom (potions was still not her strong suit), and she also watched them throughout the year.

* * *

 _(November 23_ _rd_ _, 4_ _th_ _Year)_

Classes seemed to move by without any further hitches, and the Slytherin boys kept to themselves whenever Sylvia was around Newt – which was frequently now. They had mostly been classroom friends, never exchanging more than a few words and an odd encounter here and there, but as Christmas and the holidays were fast approaching, she found herself in his company often. One such instance, was as they were walking through Hogsmeade. She had invited him, and he hesitantly accepted, saying how he had never been to the wizarding village except to ride the carriages up to Hogwarts at the start of the year.

"Really?" She said, her voice rising with surprise. Fourth-years were allowed in Hogsmeade at certain weekends then, and most students gravitated towards the village whenever they had the chance. "Why?"

"No reason to, really." He said meekly, with a shrug of the shoulder. She gave him a quizzical look but pressed no more. They trudged through the thick snow towards the place, scarves wrapped high up their necks and coats pulled closely against themselves. They narrowly dodged two students' snowball fight who were covered head to toe in snow, laughing loudly through chattering teeth.

Newt looked at them in shock, even after they had passed them he continued to glance behind him with wide eyes.

"Were they... throwing snow at each other?" He said as if the idea was the oddest thing in the world.  
Sylvia stared at him stunned. She was aware of pure-bloods and their lack of understanding in muggle affairs, but surely, she thought, he had heard of a snowball fight?

"Y-yes, it's a game." She said strangely, but this didn't seem to satisfy his curiosity as he threw one last look over his shoulder. One of the students had managed to hit the other squarely in the face, and he cheered loudly, arms thrust in the air with a victory shout.

The witch stopped, and Newt almost crashed into her as his head was still looking behind them.

"You can't mean to tell me you've never been in a snowball fight?"

"N-no, I can't say I have, really." He looked to the two boys again. The boy who was wiping snow out of his face had clearly had enough of playing fair and using his wand he managed to lift about fifteen snowballs up in the air at once. The other stared on in fear before quickly running away shouting 'foul play'. "And if it looks anything like that I don't think I'd particularly want to, either."

Sylvia giggled. "That is a little extreme, I will admit." They began walking again.

"H-how... do you win?" He asked, after a little pause and hesitation.

"I-" She thought for a second, and found she wasn't really sure. She remembered playing with Malvin once, in their second year, and he had given up after Sylvia had managed to magically construct a snowball the size of a small cow. He had been very bitter about it for the rest of the year. "I suppose until the others have given up?" She said.

Newt nodded and sucked in his lips as he always did when he was deep in thought.

They made it to the village finally, it being quite an arduous journey in the snow, and they popped in and out of various shops. Sylvia bought a couple of gifts for her mother – sweets mainly, knowing her mother's sweet tooth and bought her father an enchanted bathrobe that adjusted its warmth based on the wearer's body temperature. She knew her father would most likely never use it, though. Newt had bought his family a few things as well, mainly creature-based things like a small wooden figurine of a Hippogriff that flapped its wings occasionally. Sylvia had joked that he should magically enlarge it to a life-size replica, and Newt had considered the idea for a moment before saying he couldn't afford the amount of wrapping paper it would take to wrap it.

"We could fly it back to London." She had joked further, as they made their way through a tree clearing on their way back to Hogwarts. "I can imagine my mother's face right now." She shuddered.

No response came, and Sylvia went to look at him but found he wasn't there.

Something thumped against the back of her legs.

"Oh!" She cried out in surprise, both at the hit and at the coldness of it. Craning her head to observe the damage, she noticed snow against her calves. Evidence of a snowball. Turning around wide-eyed, and ready to give a mouthful to the cheeky sod, she noticed Newt standing a good distance away, looking slightly sheepish, but he was smiling. She raised an eyebrow. Too busy talking about enchanted wooden figurines, she had not noticed Newt stop to scoop up some snow.

"Mr. Scamander..." She said playfully, never one to back down from a challenge. "I do believe this means war!" She shouted, quickly dropping her bags and diving behind a tree to create a snowball herself.

When she finally removed herself from cover, another snowball hit her perfectly in the chest. Sylvia stared in shock for a minute, as Newt's small, shy smile had exploded into a grin. She found it contagious, and with a smile from ear to ear, threw her projectile in return. It missed, and for a lanky boy, she found, he could be rather agile when he wanted. They spent an hour like this, laughing like first years. Sylvia's mother would have been mortified to find her spending her time in such 'childish, muggle frivolities', but she found herself tremendously enjoying such simple 'muggle frivolities' - and Newt apparently was too.

Evidently much fitter than her, Newt was still bounding around tree trumps and launching snowballs with as much energy and dexterity as he had begun with. Sylvia, much to her dismay, found herself surrendering, falling to her knees in a huff – her skin was numb and her cheeks the shade of crimson, but she found her heart content. Newt came out warily from his hiding place behind an old, dead oak, thinking Sylvia's plea of peace as a dupe. He walked over lazily to where Sylvia was kneeling, panting heavily, her breath fogging up in front of her.

"How... on earth... are you... so fit?" She gasped in between pants.

"Helping my mother look after her Hippogriffs, most likely." He looked insufferably proud at his victory.

"You win the battle... Mr. Scamander... but not the war..." Sylvia threatened, but her words didn't have much impact as she struggled to stand on wobbly legs.

It was beginning to grow dark through the grey clouds, and they collected their gifts and started to make their way back to the castle. There was a noticeable spring in her companions step, and the person standing next to her was almost unrecognisable compared to the shy, meek boy that had nearly poked his own eye out trying a Lumos Duo charm the previous year.

"Now I can see why muggles enjoy that so much." He said as they made the steep climb up to the entrance of the castle.

Sylvia let out a puff of annoyance. "Yeah, they have that same smug grin when they win too." Newt's smile faltered. She noticed straight away and sought to rectify it. "Next time, though, I won't make it as easy on you!" His lopsided grin returned when he saw the twinkle in her eyes.

"We'll see, Mrs. Segovstein."

* * *

 _(11_ _th_ _January, 4_ _th_ _Year)_

"I was thinking of trying out for the Hufflepuff quidditch team." Newt blurted out one day after they returned from the Christmas break. They were sitting in the courtyard, and Sylvia was attempting to enchant a paper bird to fly. Upon Newt's sudden words, though, she lost concentration and accidentally incinerated it instead.

"Hm?" She said, thinking she must have misheard him.

"They're looking for a chaser, Simmon's broke his legs last match and doesn't want to return." He fiddled with his wand. "I've always been an adequate flyer... my mother says I should go for it but..."

Sylvia understood instantly the power she held. If she deterred him against the idea, no doubt he would forget the whole thing - and if she encouraged him she knew she was most likely shepherding him into a hospital bed. He had started to take Sylvia's advice quite seriously now, and she couldn't decide if she liked the pressure that came along with it.

"Is it something you really want?" She asked plainly, keeping her voice level to make sure he didn't misconstrue her words.

"I suppose... I do rather enjoy flying."

That was perhaps the biggest difference between the two. Sylvia's broomstick stood in her dormitory collecting dust, and that's where she planned it to stay.

She chewed on her bottom lip. "Then go for it." She left out the 'what's the worst that could happen?' for fear of tempting fate. "I think you'd be a great chaser."

In truth, Sylvia couldn't name a time where she had seen Newt on a broomstick, but as his friend, she supposed it was her duty to encourage him to do things he'll most likely regret. It's what Malvin did the time he goaded her into eating an entire pack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Newt's face lit up, and he sat a little straighter, suddenly more confident.

* * *

 _(2_ _nd_ _February, 4_ _th_ _Year)_

It turned out, that Newt was more than an adequate flyer. Sylvia had quietly turned up to the Hufflepuff's try-outs and sat on one of the benches towards the top. She had no trouble spotting Newt out of the group since he stood a near head taller than the rest trying out for the position of chaser. But when he was in the air, Sylvia's small smile was replaced with a look of amazement, as he had no problem weaving past the opposing members with grace. He seemed to have a little trouble actually catching the quaffle to begin with, and there were a couple of times when Sylvia sucked in her breath when it looked as if he would drop it.

She, like her mother, had always found quidditch boring and neither had attended any of their school's games thus far, but Sylvia couldn't deny the slight rush of excitement she felt each time she watched Newt grow close to the hoops – or the shout of approval when he threw the quaffle through it. She quickly caught herself and sat back down, drawing a strange look from a group of Hufflepuff girls to her right.

The wizard did seem to have some competition from another girl (Alice? Alison? Alex?), a swift blonde girl who seemed to have no morals on the field. She had no problem knocking a few of the other players off of their brooms, or shouldering them out of her way and to the goals. This girl, was in a few words, growing on Sylvia's last nerve. She had gone for Newt a few times, but he had managed to weave safely out of the way, yet she was going for him again. He had the quaffle tucked safely under his arm, but she was driving him slowly towards the stands.

"Oh, no," Sylvia said, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. She suddenly remembered the reason she hated quidditch.

They were fast approaching the hoops, (and Sylvia's heart fast approaching her throat) but Newt was almost pressed up against the stands, the bristles on his broom scraping loudly against them.

"Stop it you infernal witch!" She hissed under her breath. She cast a quick look at the group of Hufflepuff's to her right, but they didn't seem as invested in the match as Sylvia was. Looking both ways, the very picture of suspicion, she reached gingerly into her pocket and reached for her wand. Holding it down by her legs, but still pointed at her target.

" _Arresto Momentum_." She whispered, and sure enough, the girl's broomstick stopped suddenly, and the momentum promptly sent her flying off of her broom and onto the floor below.

Newt, now with little to no obstacles left in his way, proceeded towards the goal and threw the quaffle past the keeper and through the hoop. Sylvia allowed herself a silent cheer, her fist clenched as she punched the air.

The whistle blew and the group landed and came together on the ground. They conferred for a moment before the vast majority of them left. Sylvia was pleased to note that Newt was left behind, talking with the team captain. She couldn't see his facial expression from her seat, but his body language looked relaxed.

Quickly tucking her wand back in her pocket, she descended the stairs back down to the ground and waited outside the quidditch pitch for Newt to leave. She saw the same girl she had just cast a spell on, cursing profusely as she left, ranting about her broom and how it was rubbish. They briefly made eye contact, but the girl didn't appear to have any idea that her chances of being chaser were just diminished by a simple spell.

Soon enough, though, Newt left the stadium with his own broom in tow, practically glowing from head to toe. He saw Sylvia standing there and his expression lightened more.

"Sylvia!" He jogged over. "I did it! The first game is next week!"

Newt was practically beaming he looked so ecstatic. It was infectious, and Sylvia found herself sharing his enthusiasm.

"Brilliant!" She cheered, briefly wondering whether a hug would be appropriate. Deciding against it, she gave him a small slap on the shoulder. "Will you remember me when you're famous?" She said jokingly. Newt laughed and looked to the ground.

"Were... were you watching?" He asked.

"Of course," Sylvia said, fully confident. "Why wouldn't I want to see my friend kick some arse?"

Her mother would have had her throat, hair and her rear for cursing so casually, but Newt just chuckled.

"Will you come watch the game then? I know quidditch isn't your... cup of tea but..."

"Without a doubt, I'll be there, Newt."

He smiled fully at his friend and they turned to walk back to the castle.

"Strange what happened to Jeanie's broom. I hope it doesn't happen to mine." He examined his broom carefully.

"Oh, I doubt it."

* * *

 _(26_ _th_ _April, 4_ _th_ _Year)_

As the school year drew towards its inevitable end, Sylvia and Newt were almost joined at the hip. There were now very few tentative looks and smiles, and instead loud, unafraid laughter. Where the pair walked, chuckles followed. They had begun to write to each other often outside of school (much to Mrs. Scamander's glee and Mrs. Segovstein's curiosity), and they had arranged a visit to Newt's mother's Hippogriff ranch in the summer. Sylvia's mother had made the arrangements, and Sylvia had filled her head with thoughts of sunflowers to dispel her mother's intrusions. A mother has a special branch of intuition, though, and it didn't take a Legilimens to notice Sylvia's palpable excitement once the date had been set.

Hufflepuff had lost their first match against Ravenclaw by a landslide but had won another against Gryffindor not long after. Sylvia found herself attending more and more quidditch games (noticeably the Hufflepuff's ones), and was perhaps, to her own surprise, Newt's biggest fan – to which he had a few now. He no longer sat alone or walked the corridors like a ghost unseen, quite the opposite. If it weren't Sylvia walking beside him, it was the other members of the Hufflepuff's team or an enthusiastic quidditch fan with a few helpful tips. Sylvia sat and watched with a smile at breakfast, lunch, and dinner - at the excited, chattering group that now often surrounded the wizard. No-one seemed to question the peculiarity at a male sitting in the position of chaser (and if they did in Sylvia's presence she made sure it wasn't repeated again) because his tall, light frame made him perfect.

This was one such instance, the red-head (who's once bright, ginger hair was now noticeably darkening) was absent-mindedly pushing the chicken around her plate with a distant smile on her face.

"You know, you've been doing that more and more lately," Malvin said with a rather rude point of his fork.

Sylvia quickly descended back down to earth with a shake of the head. "What?"

"Smiling." He said plainly, with a small note of suspicion in his voice. "You know, the others have been talking."

She quickly homed in on Malvin's tone. Normally, a line like that would be laced with fervour and excitement, but he sounded dark and worried.

"Talking?" She repeated.

Malvin hummed, pushing his plate away from him. Another red flag. He swallowed the food he was chewing and looked at Sylvia intently.

"What-" He coughed and lowered his voice, leaning in across the table towards the girl. Sylvia found herself doing the same. "What _are_ you two?" He nudged his head behind him, but she didn't have to guess who he was referring to.

"Friends, of course." Sylvia barked, a little too quickly. "For goodness sake, Malvin, can't a boy and girl be friends without anything else?" It was a clearly rhetorical question, and the witch wouldn't have had any second thoughts with hitting him if he chose to answer it. Luckily for him, he didn't.

"No, no, I understand..." He cleared his throat again. "It's just... well, _we're_ friends." Sylvia thought that was still up for debate. "But you're fiercely protective of him... I mean all Bettie was saying was that he was a little weird-"

"She deserved it," Sylvia said with a defensive point of the finger. Bettie was also a chaser, but for the Gryffindor team, and Sylvia had overheard her slating Newt with reckless abandon after Hufflepuff's first win. It was the only time she had lost control of her powers in her short life, and the bottom of Bettie's cloak had promptly caught fire. She ended up in the hospital wing with 1st-degree burns.

Malvin held up his hands in surrender. "I'm not saying she didn't, but you're not like this with anyone else, Sylvia. You're actually smiling for a change, you're more interested in magical creatures (she was) and he," He shot a thumb over his shoulder. "Can actually point his wand without blowing something up. And that's not even counting the long, lingering looks he sends you when he thinks you aren't looking. You can't deny this seems like a little more than friendship."

Sylvia, for the first time in a long time, found herself flustered and angry – feeling akin to a cornered animal. More so because what he was saying was true. She dropped her fork on her plate with a clatter and shot Malvin a dangerously dark look.

"My affairs are none of your business, Malvin." She sent the same look towards a pair of girls to their left who were currently trying the best to appear incognito but were without a doubt listening intently to their conversation. "Or anyone else's for that matter. And I suggest you keep your nose out of it before you lose it." She growled, before quickly leaving the Great Hall.

Never in her life can Sylvia remember being so angry and she felt the heat rise in her pale face. She paced the girl's dormitory, fanning her face frantically, not fully understanding why Malvin's words had gotten to her so much.

 _Never let them see you sweat, Sylvia._ Her mother's favourite saying rung loudly in her ears and she sat heavily on her bed. She let out a sigh and hoped that Newt was too preoccupied to have noticed her small outburst.

In truth, she had heard everything people were saying about herself. She had ignored the vile comments about Newt 'batting above his weight' or the spiteful comments about herself only being interested in him 'since he became chaser' and over time her shy blushes had turned to angry ones. And she wasn't sure why.

Did she want more? She was fifteen and had never given a second thought to romantic feelings, thinking working on her own power and knowledge was more important – under her mother's somewhat strict insistence. But she didn't see why she couldn't have both. Her mother was both an extremely powerful Auror and a (happily?) married woman.

"I'm thinking about this too much." She exhaled, sitting alone in their warm chambers. She straightened her back and stuck out her chin, flattening her ruffled skirt. _I refuse to let this get to me,_ she thought harshly. _You are Sylvia Segovstein, and the silly words of a few school children are not going to shake your confidence._

She made a plan mentally, she was going to apologise to Malvin in the morning and walk with her head held high. _If she and Newt were to become something more,_ she refused to let herself linger on the thought, _then so be it._

 _But it's a luxury, not the goal._

Sylvia certainly wouldn't let her reputation as a talented duellist be dulled because of her interest in a boy.

Looking back, had she kept this confidence, perhaps things wouldn't have turned out quite the way they did.

* * *

 _(19th July, 4th Year)_

They year had dwindled down to its end. Sylvia had kept true to her word and focused more so on her academic studies rather than her emotional ones and they had flourished. Her Defence Against The Dark Art's classes had shown even more of an improvement and had scored her many a point for Gryffindor. Her professor had asked her to stay behind one afternoon, and they had discussed Sylvia's future prospects lightly. The young witch had beamed when it was suggested that she pursue something akin to her mother's profession, knowing no doubt this would please Hanna greatly. Dumbledore had been more than impressed with her talent for Transfiguration, but his deep stares and odd questions still made Sylvia uneasy. Her potions and Arithmancy classes were another matter, and she still struggled with them, but with a little persistence, she managed to keep her head consistently above water (she had even managed to brew a potion without poisoning half of the class!).

Her relationship with Newt had its strains. They were still friends by every means of the word, but she found herself distancing from him. Not entirely on purpose, though, with the amount of extra work she was taking on in preparations for her O.W.L.'s the next year, she found herself in the library or her common room more often than not, and Newt was often busy with quidditch practice in the afternoons and evenings. They still had their arrangement to meet in the holidays, but Sylvia found herself more apprehensive about it than excited as the date began to draw nearer.

She had seated herself with Newt on the train back to London with two of his friends from quidditch. They had chatted casually about their games, their triumphs and defeats but Sylvia found herself zoning out on many occasions, too busy worrying about her essay that her DATDA's professor had set her. Halfway through their journey, the other two boys dismissed themselves from the compartment in a hunt for the lunch trolley. It had been a long time since an uncomfortable silence fell on the two of them, and Sylvia found she hadn't missed it.

"Are you alright?" Newt had asked in a small whisper, even though they were alone, concern visible on his soft features.

"I'm fine, just a little tired from all the work." It wasn't a lie. "And from my hatred of potions and alchemy." That wasn't a lie either.

Newt nodded and the compartment grew quiet once more.

"Are... you still coming?" He asked after another minutes silence. "To my mother's ranch, I mean."

Sylvia tried her hardest to smile excitedly. "Of course! I hear your mother's... very pleased about it all."

Newt blushed a little. "Yes... she's very pleased." He said awkwardly. "She enjoys any chance to show off her 'children'."

She hummed in reply. It felt awkward, she noted. It hadn't felt like this since the first year they met.

 _Why does it feel like this now?_ Sylvia found herself praying for the two other boys to return so they could discuss some trivial quidditch technique and the conversation would turn away from her. She adjusted her skirt slightly, pretending to be interested in a small, menial tear in the hem. When she glanced up, she saw he was staring out of the window, a distant look in his eyes and a slight hurt look on his face. Her heart ached at the sight and she cursed herself for acting the way she was.

"I hope I don't offend them," Sylvia said, and it was more a cluster of words than an actual sentence, but it drew Newt's attention back all the same. "The Hippogriffs. I don't seem to have much luck with them."

This was a throw-back to their third-year lesson. She had made an off-hand comment about a Hippogriff looking strange - thinking there was no possible way a bird-horse could understand her words. It had. The creature had hit her with its wing and sent her flying across the ground. No damage was done apart from a large bruise across her stomach and a few scrapes. They had laughed about it many times since then.

His smile returned and Sylvia let out an internal sigh of relief.

"They're quite friendly, my mother raised them so... but I don't think any creature quite likes being called 'strange-looking'."

They shared a small laugh before the two boys returned with a copious amount of sugary sweets. After spending the rest of the train ride hunting for a chocolate frog that had jumped out of the compartment, and laughing loudly after it had jumped down one of the boy's shirt, they finally arrived in London.

Sylvia was just saying goodbye to Newt when he gestured over her shoulder. "Is that your father?" He said curiously. They had many a goodbye like this and had joked many times about her mother's presence, but her father never came to collect her.

"What?" Sylvia said turning behind her to see none other than her father standing next to a pillar, looking very uncomfortable in the presence of so many magical people. He also looked grave, shadows under his eyes and his mouth set in a thin line as he spotted Sylvia in the crowd. Giving an awkward wave to signal his position, Sylvia turned back to Newt. "It is. He never comes." She whispered.

She didn't sound pleased. Her father never came to Kings Cross, as he preferred to keep his distance away from all magical things – still not trusting it all even after sixteen years of marriage to a witch.

"Is everything alright?" Newt asked, concerned with Sylvia's tone. He had heard her angry, heard her laugh, heard her surprised but never worried. The wizard, up until that point, didn't think she was capable of worry.

"I'm about to find out," Sylvia said, gripping her cart slowly. "I'll write to you." She said over her shoulder as she began to head towards her father.

"Sylvia." The broad-shouldered man greeted, but there wasn't any warmth in it. Fredrik wasn't a warm man. He placed a large hand on Sylvia's shoulders and she quivered with anticipation. Looking at her solemnly, he guided her out of the station.

Her mother had been taken to the Ministry for investigation under suspicion of assisting one Gellert Grindelwald.


	3. Chapter 3

_(19_ _th_ _July, 4_ _th_ _Year - 5_ _th_ _Year)_

Sylvia sat glued to her car seat the entire way home to Chesire. Words had failed her.

Fredrik had given a hesitant account of what her mother was being investigated for, and the girl tried to listen intently. Her father's voice sounded to her as if he was underwater, the blood rushed so loudly in her ears. She caught various words and phrases.

 _Dark magic. Ridiculous. Didn't want to disturb your school work. There'll be a wizarding hearing. You'll be there._

And there were a few German curse words in there that Sylvia had never heard her father say before. He was cool and distant, but never so distant that his own daughter barely recognised him.

Gellert Grindelwald. The name still struck a certain chord with Sylvia many years later, but the name to her then was something akin to a myth. She had heard his name muttered in the Hogwart's corridors - he was a famous student of Durmstrang, or he was. A student had asked her if she knew him once simply because her parents were German too. The name made her gut feel cold.

He was a wizard soon to be famed for his alliance with the Dark Arts and her mother was adept at ridding the world of people like him. How could anyone think she would help them?

It was, as Sylvia found out when she was older, simple period racism. Even the wizarding world wasn't exempt from it. Her mother was German, Gellert was German – to the Ministry, this was solid proof and they were desperate to quell his rapidly growing fanbase whilst he was still a relatively small threat. They would, as time would tell, fail.

Upon returning to their small home in a quaint 'everyone-knows-everyone' neighbourhood, they were greeted by two Ministry operatives, dressed in black as if waiting for a hearse to pull up rather than their car. Her father looked positively furious, slamming his door as if the crash would dispel them.

It did not.

Fredrik had barked an order for Sylvia to stay in the car, and so she did, reviewing the two agents as if they were harbingers of death rather than news.

"If we may come in, Mr. Segovstein, we have news." Their voices were muffled slightly, both from their low tone and the car's windshield.

Her father, disgruntled (a polite description), waved to Sylvia and they all entered the house. It felt colder than usual - as if the bitterness of the Scottish highlands had followed her home. They all sat awkwardly in the living room. It still smelt faintly of her mother's perfume.

"We understand this is a trying time for you and your daughter, Mr. Segovstein. But if Hanna is innocent she'll have nothing to fear and be returned to you shortly." The older one spoke, his lips muffled by his handle-bar moustache.

Sylvia winced. _'Returned to you shortly_ '. Her mother was a person, not a package that had been misplaced. Fredrik evidently agreed.

"Returned?" He barked, his thick eyebrows knitting together. "You do not think I know my wife, eh?"

"We did not insinuate that, sir. We merely ask for your patience."

"Patience-" Her father's head was about to hit the roof until Sylvia – ignored up until this point – opened her mouth.

"What exactly is my mother being investigated for?"

Three heads turned towards her and regarded her with a look as if they had almost forgotten she had existed. The female of the two shared a glance with her partner. "We believe she helped Grindelwald escape after the suspected murder of a witch." Fredrik flinched.

"Impossible!" He shouted. "I know my-"

"We are aware." The mustached man spoke tartly. "The hearing will be set for the 13th of next month." Apt, Sylvia later thought. "You and your daughter are to attend and you will be subject to questioning. Please be aware that your movements are being tracked and we will be in touch before then. Any further questions?"

The witch felt as if she would throw up.

"What's the penalty?" Sylvia asked before she could stop herself. "If she is convicted?"

Such harsh words to use – they felt foreign on her tongue. _Penalty. Convicted._

"Lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban." The man answered simply.

Not much more was said and the two agents soon left pretty much as quickly as they had arrived. Her father let out a long, sigh, and placed his face in his hands.

"They just came in..." He began, quietly. "Came in and started barking at Hanna to surrender her wand and..." His voice was shaky. "I tried to stop them..." It was only then that his daughter noticed the fading scar on his father's neck.

 _This isn't my father,_ Sylvia thought darkly.

"I hate wizards." Her father spat, as he stood and retreated to the kitchen.

The witch found herself in her room scribbling on a piece of parchment before she had even realised what she was doing, reciting the mad events that had taken place in a few short hours. She had only just finished writing the address before she found out they had confiscated her mother's owl too.

"Damn it. Damn it all!" Sylvia cursed, clutching the parchment in her hands with a tight grip.

She had planned to tell Newt the news, not knowing what else to do with herself. She couldn't bare to go downstairs.

It became apparent how much closer she was to her mother, and just how much closer she was with Newt than her own father.

* * *

 _(26_ _th_ _July, 4_ _th_ _Year - 5_ _th_ _Year)_

A week of uncomfortable silence drew past slowly before there was a clatter at her window one morning. It made Sylvia jump, she wasn't used to sudden noises now that her mother wasn't there, with her constant humming or barking.

It was an owl. It wasn't her mother's, certainly, the owl was far too friendly. It pecked at the window several times before Sylvia gathered up the nerve to open it. The air was hot, summer had arrived without her noticing, but her attention wasn't on the weather. The soft, brown owl tooted softly at her, and it was a minute before Sylvia saw it had a note attached to its foot. She took the note and read it quickly.

 _Sylvia,_

 _I'm not sure if this will get to you, Harris gets a little distracted sometimes, but I just wondered if everything was okay. You looked awfully pale talking to your father, and my mother said I should write to you and see if everything was fine. I hope I'm not being too nosy, and I hope you'll still come visit on the 9_ _th_ _._

 _Hope you're okay._ This was poorly scribbled out and instead ' _Hope everything is well'_ was written below it.  
 _  
Newt_

 _P.S  
Please do give Harris some water – he's not quite as fit as he used to be._

Sylvia laughed to find it signed as well. It was the first time she had laughed since she had returned home. She quickly rushed downstairs to retrieve a bowl from her cupboard and fill it with water. Rushing back upstairs (with careful steps), she placed it on the sill. Harris happily drank from it as Sylvia wrote out her own note.

 _Newt,_

 _Everything is not well._

She scrunched up this piece of paper and threw it aside. It seemed quite a heavy subject to write on one simple piece of parchment. _'My mothers currently incarcerated because she's believed to have assisted a dark wizard'_ wouldn't translate as well on the page, she thought. Writing it in a fit of anger and confusion was one thing, but now she thought it would be better to tell him in person.

The witch took a breath, before writing another much lighter note about how she was well, but her family was in a bit of a bother, and that her mother's owl was currently unwell so that's why she hadn't written to him. She tried to keep it friendly and chatty and ended it saying how she would explain everything when she visited. Newt would worry if she used ominous words, and that was the last thing she currently wanted.

 _I look forward to seeing you again, I've missed your laugh._

Sylvia went to scribble this out but stopped her hand. It sounded quite... _forward_ when she read the letter back out loud. But it was true. She missed his presence - it had become comforting to her. Reliable. In her current world of so much uncertainty, it calmed her to know someone she could rely on.

The 9th, in another turn of feeling, couldn't come quick enough to her.

* * *

 _(9_ _th_ _August, 4_ _th_ _\- 5_ _th_ _Year)_

"There'll be a hearing and everything?" Newt said incredulously.

Sylvia hummed, not quite wanting to look him in the eye. "Please don't tell anyone else, though, Newt. The last thing I need is this following me to Hogwarts as well."

He nodded enthusiastically. "Of course not. Your secret is certainly safe with me."

They were sitting outside lazily. The weather was stiflingly warm, and the sun blazed intently. Newt's family's ranch was incredible. It was an acre of land at the back of their family home, with more than enough space for the large amount of Hippogriffs that his mother kept.

They had spent most of the morning walking through the dense forest and open fields with Newt introducing each creature they came across as if it was capable of remembering her. He seemed more than proud and in his element, naming each creatures individual characteristics. _'This is Percy, he gets a little temperamental this time of year – must be all the hot air. It plays havoc with his feathers.'_ They had helped his mother feed a few of them too (Sylvia had gotten ferret blood on her blouse, which she wasn't too pleased about) and then had iced tea on their backyard decking. To Sylvia, everything about his life and family seemed ideal, to say the least.

Mrs. Scamander had fussed over her the moment she had stepped through their open fire-place, constantly commenting on how she wished she had a daughter, before quickly retracting her statement with a _'but instead I've been blessed with two beautiful sons!'_ to which Newt blushed fiercely. It had been the greatest day Sylvia had in a long time. It was almost easy to forget that her father was wasting away at home and her mother was currently detained in a Ministry cell.

After their tea, they had sat quietly for a moment on the outside decking before Sylvia told Newt everything that had happened. She had not looked him in the eye, instead staring out into the beautiful fields and distant trees. It was so quiet.

"I'll come with you," He blurted out suddenly. "I-if you want, I mean. I hear they can be stressful and I thought maybe you would like a friend or company or... something."

Sylvia smiled at him. They had been friends for nearly two years now, and he still was cautious about what he said – afraid that he would say the wrong thing and that Sylvia would yell at him in disgust and never talk to him again.

"It's quite alright. I did some reading and found they're more boring than anything." She said, trying to look at him confidently. The hearing didn't worry her far as much as it should have – she was more worried about its aftermath. She could find herself returning to Hogwarts with one less parent.

His mother came bounding out of the back door at that moment. "I just thought! You haven't even ridden one yet, have you, Sylvia? Newt, bring Polly along, she's the nicest!"

Sylvia nearly choked on her tea. The witch had managed to get out of riding them in class after one had attacked her (after she did insult it), and she had no intention of getting on ever after that. A broomstick was troublesome enough, but a broomstick didn't have a mind of its own with very large and sharp talons.

Newt quickly disappeared into the big barn that stood a short distance away before Sylvia could begin to protest. His mother disappeared back into the house, mumbling something into about getting her 'camera'.

Standing up, Sylvia tried to run over to the barn, quickly trying to come up with some excuse on why she couldn't ride. _'Oh, sorry Newt, my knee's playing up'_ or something of that ilk.

"Newt-" She called, the name dying in her throat as she heard him talking to something. "Who are you-" The barn door was cracked open slightly, and Sylvia stopped before it as she heard what he was saying.

"Now, stop that Polly, I have someone you'd like to meet." She peeked her head around the door slightly and saw Newt stroking a Hippogriffs beak, cooing to it slightly as it tried to nuzzle him. "Someone quite important to me, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to maim her." Sylvia's heart palpated. "She's not... the best with creatures, so do try and be patient with her."

She had the distinct feeling she wasn't meant to hear that, so she quickly retreated back a good distance, and began walking slowly towards the barn again. Timing it perfectly, she was a couple of feet away from the barn door as it slid open, and out came Newt with the Hippogriff. It was a majestic thing, with a much lighter colouration than the others she had seen. It's bright, white feathers practically shone in the sun.

He stopped a little distance away, and Sylvia recited her Care of Magical Creatures practices,n bowing low. Her forehead began to moisten - and not just from the heat. After a couple of seconds, the beast too bowed and she stood there – the very picture of anxiety. Newt seemed fully confident, waving Sylvia over. She walked over hesitantly, stroking the creature's beak as if it were made of glass.

"Don't they have... saddles or something?" Sylvia asked, knowing the question sounded ridiculous.

"No, no. They hate any restrictive bindings. Polly's our most experienced flyer, you'll be in safe hands." He said, gesturing her to come around its side. "Just hop on."

Sylvia cast him one last nervous look, before placing her hands on its back. She tried to hoist herself up, and in her nervousness, slipped with a yelp and would have completely fallen backward if it weren't for Newt catching her. She quickly straightened herself, blushing slightly.

"You don't have to if you're not-" Newt started, now seeing Sylvia's evident anxiety.

"No." She said sternly. "If I can eat my mother's cooking then I can certainly ride this bird. Horse." She coughed. "This creature."

"Perhaps it would be easier if I rode with you?" He said gingerly. "I can help you up."

Sylvia nodded profusely, thinking it a much wiser idea to have someone with her when she would inevitably plummet to her death. She shook the thought out of her head quickly.

With the grace of practice, it took Newt one attempt to mount the creature, it stretching its wings slightly in response. He scooted back so his legs were behind the beast's wings and held out his hand. Sylvia grasped it tightly, and with a strength that surprised her, he lifted her up and onto its back safely. Just having her feet dangling that far off of the ground made her nauseous.

"Wait!" His mother beckoned, running over to the pair of them with a strange contraption in her hands. "A perfect picture moment, hold still! You too, Polly."

Sylvia raised an eyebrow, but the beast underneath her seemed to still.

"Look this way... Come on Newt, you've got a gorgeous smile – let's see it!" This only caused Newt to look more flustered than smiley and Sylvia gave an uneasy grin. After a few moments, an almost blinding flash went off, and her mother quickly wished them good luck before retreating back to the house.

Sylvia rubbed her semi-blinded eyes. "Does she do that often?"

"Any chance she can get." He said. She couldn't see him, but he sounded quite annoyed. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Sylvia sighed.

With a kick of his leg, Polly trotted into a gallop.

 _No turning back now,_ Sylvia thought, her heart in her throat.

After a small period of galloping, Polly began to beat her wings and they began to soar into the air at a sharp incline.

Something like a squeal left Sylvia's throat as she felt herself sliding backward across Polly's smooth feathers. Newt wrapped his arms around her securely. Had she been aware of anything but the cucumber sandwiches they had earlier rising to greet her again, she may have been flustered at the intimacy of everything.

Once high above their tallest trees, they levelled out again and Polly soared around with ease, flapping her wings occasionally. Newt had not removed his arms from around her waist but Sylvia made no complaints at the extra security. She was pressed close against his front, but she was too busy looking below her to feel anything other than fear. Her thighs locked tightly around the beast.

Polly decided to swoop back down suddenly and Sylvia's heart did another leap. Their feet were almost touching the tree tops.

"If I ever make it down alive, Newt, I am never doing this again!" She cried aloud and Newt laughed in her ear.

They climbed high into the air again, Polly cawing loudly into the bright sky. Sylvia couldn't see anything for miles but open plains and rolling hills.

"It's beautiful." She muttered, too captivated by the breath-taking scenery that for a moment she forgot she was very high in the air.

"It is," Newt said behind her. It was now she realised she could feel the vibrations in his chest as he spoke – they were that close. She feigned ignorance and pretended not to be bothered by it. She very much was.

It seemed like an eternity, spent soaring what appeared to be infinite skies around his mother's ranch, and it didn't feel like long until the sun started to lower in the sky.

Passing over Newt's farmhouse for the umpteenth time, his mother called out loudly that dinner was ready, and Polly lowered herself gracefully back onto the ground, kicking up the dry earth around them. Newt finally released Sylvia as soon as they were back on the ground and dismounted the Hippogriff with ease. She, on the other hand, more slid off of it – her legs feeling like feathers. Forcing herself to stand, she let out a long, deep sigh of relief as her feet touched the solid ground once again.

"That was... certainly something new," Sylvia said, not wanting to seem ungrateful.

Newt smiled. "We... could always get back on again?"

"Gosh, no!" She barked before she could stop herself, realising that he was only teasing. He laughed loudly, and they started to shepherd Polly back into her stable.

The barn itself had an enchantment on it. What seemed like a regular-sized barn on the outside was more of a several-story building on the inside – filled with many paddocks on different levels. Sylvia stared around the barn, not quite believing what she was seeing. Newt noticed her staring as he walked Polly back to where he retrieved her.

"Ingenious, isn't it?" He said.

She hummed her agreement, eyes fixated on a Hippogriff that was flying up to its paddock on a higher level. "I could do with a bag like this."

Once finished, they returned back to his home and was greeted with a wonderfully prepared Sunday dinner. Sylvia's mother mainly cooked German food to please her father's traditional tastes. It was only until she had started at Hogwarts that she had started eating English food, and a properly prepared Sunday dinner with all the trimmings was fast becoming her favourite meal. Newt's father and brother were there, and the conversation came fast and easy for them all. It did, however, become slightly tense when Mrs. Scamander had asked about Sylvia's mother, but she handled it quickly and said her mother was doing well – not wanting to upset the friendly atmosphere with such dark matters. Dessert was as well prepared and plentiful, and Sylvia had to almost waddle out of the house when they were finished.

What little time they had after dinner, they spent sitting on the front porch watching the stars. Sylvia had seen quite enough star-charts to last her a lifetime, picking Arithmancy as her other elective, but the sky that covered Newt's home was clear and beautiful - and seeing them there was a lot more exciting than in a crowded, stuffy classroom. They spent a little time pointing out constellations and stars of importance before Newt changed the conversation.

"I'm sorry if today has been a little boring." He said quietly. "I know it's not quite as exciting as-"

"What?" Sylvia choked. "Boring?" Newt looked a little surprised at his friend's shock. "Newt, sitting in a classroom learning about the history of star-charts are boring. What you have here is... amazing. I feel very lucky to have even been invited." She said honestly. If anything she was purely envious – he got to see this every day if he chose. Sylvia's life was so plain that she could name you how many cracks there were in her bathroom tiles.

"Really?" Newt said as if this was the oddest thing she had ever come out with. "I was scared you weren't going to enjoy yourself, no-one ever really seems interested in Hippogriff's that much." Sylvia couldn't really say she was their biggest fan, but she'd definitely have fond memories attached to them now.

"I wouldn't worry about that if I were you." She chuckled. "I don't think I could name a day I enjoyed more." The quiet of the evening was astounding, apart from the chirp of a cricket or a distant caw of a Hippogriff.

"Will you come back?" He asked, looking at the ground in front of her.

"If you'll have me." She said tenderly.

They never did arrange another day, Sylvia noted a few years later. Perhaps it was better that it was never repeated because it would never be as sweet or as joyful as it was the first time. The rare times she came upon a picture of a Hippogriff, or a drawing, the ghost of a smile would always grow on her face at the memory of that day.

* * *

Trouble was brewing in Europe, both in the wizarding world and muggle one – but a storm was coming for Sylvia, one that she could not have foreseen, and it had nothing to do with her mother or dark wizards.

It came in the form of a small, sweet, dark-haired girl – Leta Lestrange.


	4. Chapter 4

_(13th September, 5th Year)_

"Ah, Ms. Segovstein, please," The wizard waved a hand gracefully towards the plush leather seat in front of his desk. "Take a seat."

Sylvia did slowly, her legs feeling a little shakier than usual. She felt herself sink into the seat slowly, and placed her hands neatly in her lap.

"Now," Dumbledore looked up with a kind smile. "I hear you're a rather proficient duellist."

His gaze was light, the corners of his eyes creasing kindly as waited patiently for Sylvia to reply. She nodded her head once, finding the various suits of armour and paintings around his office more interesting than usual. He continued casually.

"There's always positions in the wizarding community for talented duellists, no doubt." He withdrew a piece of parchment from his desk. "Perhaps, though, you have something else in mind for your future?"

"I'm not really sure, sir." She said hesitantly.

"Not to worry, Sylvia, I had no inclination at what I wanted to pursue when I was your age, either." He reviewed the parchment in front of him carefully for a moment. "Ah, I see you have quite a knack for a few wand-orientated subjects."

Sylvia presumed what he had in front of him was her expected grades so far, and thought he was most kind for not mentioning her disastrous potions or herbology marks.

"Your Defence Against The Dark Art's professor suggests a career in the Auror's office, does she not?" Sylvia nodded again, fiddling with her fingers. "A noble position to take, indeed."

Dumbledore looked up, to see Sylvia staring at her shoes again. He let out a small sigh and adjusted his half-moon spectacles on his nose.

"Forgive me for asking, Sylvia, but I can't help but notice you're a little more troubled than most when it comes to a simple career meeting. Is something else troubling you?"

Sylvia had to hide her scoff behind a cough. Everyone at Hogwarts knew what was wrong with her, but she knew Dumbledore was giving her the option to confide. She had never given him enough credit for his kindness.

"My mother, I suppose, sir." She said, finally looking him in the eyes.

Hanna Segovstein had been cleared of her charges, as no one had actually been able to find any connection between her and Gellert Grindlewald other than the fact that they were both German. They did, however, demote her to the Goblin Liason office (' _just a precaution, Hanna'_ ) and it was a change that did not sit with her mother well. That, however, had not been the worst of it.

Upon returning to Hogwarts, Sylvia had received a mixed reaction. Some avoided her like the plague, quick to step out of her way for fear that Gellert himself might leap out of her pocket, and others had actually applauded her. Her father had taken her to King's Cross Station and happened upon another pure-blood family. The father had shaken Fredrik's hand and introduced himself, much to the muggles confusion _('Anything you need , we're here for you')_. When Sylvia had entered the train, hoping to find Newt and have some reprieve, she had been coerced into a carriage of Slytherin's _('Bloody good work your mother's doing, Sylvia', 'My father says Gellert has the right idea!')_

Even Malvin kept his distance. The only contact they had with each other was a brief 'hello' before he quickly departed for the boy's dormitory.

She was beginning to grow tired of it. Even though her mother had been cleared of her charges, apparently to most it was still a matter of debate – and school-children could be especially mean when they wanted to be.

"Ah, I thought that might be the case." For once, Dumbledore looked a little indisposed. Awkward, perhaps? "Children, I have long known, have an insatiable appetite for gossip – muggle or magical. I understand your struggle, Sylvia, but I must be rather insensitive and insist you turn a deaf ear to all of it. Your O.W.L's are fast approaching."

Sylvia understood clearly, and she would be lying if she said the pressure wasn't weighing on her. If her mother could remain strong throughout her struggles, then so could she, she decided.

"Of course, professor." She stopped playing with her hands and straightened her back.

Dumbledore smiled again, though there was a little something different in his eyes this time. Something playful?

"I do find, in difficult times, that our friends can be our best assets. I suppose you have someone you're quite close to?"

Newt's image flashed in her mind immediately. Newt had been the only person so far not to pass judgment on her families affairs. Sylvia looked up and she could have sworn she saw the corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitch a little higher.

"Yes, I suppose I do," Sylvia said a little more confidently.

"Good. Now," He picked up Sylvia's grade sheet again. "Onto your future."

* * *

 _(27th September, 5th Year)_

The days after her career meeting did not prove easier for Sylvia. Rumours of her mother's involvement with Gellert and dark forces had only increased ten-fold. The stories had begun to grow more extravagant, some even insisting that Sylvia was in fact _related_ to the dark wizard himself. Sylvia found herself more lonesome, yet more popular than she had ever been before.

Entering the girl's bathroom between classes, Sylvia saw three girls speaking in hushed whispers. Upon seeing her, they quickly ceased their conversation. The tallest of the three, and apparently the bravest, reviewed Sylvia slowly. She was a stocky girl in the same Herbology class, and she recognised her as Ravenclaw's quidditch team captain.

"Well, is it true?" The Ravenclaw said, with a face that looked as if it tasted something bad.

Sylvia reviewed her in turn. "I guess you believe the rumours too, Cassandra?"

"Everyone's talking about it." The smallest of the three spoke up, the light acne scars on her face creasing. "It's hard not to believe really, since your both... well..."

"German?" Sylvia snapped. "I was born here, you idiot. I'm as British as you are!"

Cassandra did not take it well.

"Don't call her an idiot, you filthy-"

Her breath caught in her throat. Cassandra's hands flung to her neck as if she was choking. The two girls beside her gasped and panicked.

"Filthy, what?" Another voice spoke behind Sylvia. The red-head spun around.

There stood a calm girl, at least a foot smaller than Sylvia. Her curly hair pulled into neat buns, her robes pressed and immaculate and she stood with a stare that Sylvia at the time would not have challenged if her life depended on it. Her wand was raised in the air, perfectly straight and unmoving.

This was, of course, the first time Sylvia met Leta Lestrange.

"You are so _rude_ , Cassandra. We've talked about this before, haven't we?" Cassandra nodded quickly, her face paling with a bluish hue. "Are we going to have a repeat of the potions incident? I hear it took weeks for your voice to fully recover again."

The quidditch team captain was on her knees now, and her nose had started to bleed. Leta's dark skin practically glowed, her brown eyes twinkled with malice.

"Leta! Stop it! Stop it now!" One of the girls squealed.

"Only if you ask _nicely_ ," Leta spoke, her voice dark and low. It strangely reminded Sylvia of liquorice.

"Please, Leta! She's going to pass out!"

Leta lowered her wand and Cassandra fully collapsed, sucking in air and dry-heaving simultaneously.

Sylvia stared in awe at the scene, her heart pumping wildly. She had nearly witnessed a girl _kill_ someone, and she wasn't taking it well.

The two girls quickly heaved Cassandra off the floor, stuttering about taking her to the hospital wing as they quickly departed from the girl's bathroom (making sure there was a wide berth around the girl with a wand still in her hand).

"I do apologise. Cassandra never learns to keep her great nose out of other people's business."

Sylvia seemed lost for words, her hand on her heart as she stared between Leta and the door. The Lestrange didn't seem to notice, or care, and walked towards Sylvia with a strong air of grace and confidence. She extended her hand.

"I'm Leta Lestrange, as you probably already know. You're Sylvia Segovstein, aren't you?"

The taller witch was acting on auto-pilot and shook the girl's hands, nodding strangely.

"You... almost _killed_ her," Sylvia muttered.

Leta laughed.

Sylvia couldn't believe it. The small girl in front of her, who was a foot smaller than herself and even smaller than Cassandra had almost suffocated someone and was _laughing_ about it.

"Well, when you disrespect your evident superiors, what can you expect?" She said lightly.

 _So that's what this is about._ Sylvia thought. It was just another Slytherin who thought Sylvia was directly involved with Grindelwald.

"Right," Sylvia said tartly, quickly removing her hand from Leta as if it burned her. Once again, Leta either didn't notice Sylvia's evident change in mood - or she didn't care.

"You needn't worry about those silly little girls anymore, Sylvia." Her smile was sickly sweet. "While we're friends anyway." She added casually.

"I'm... going to be late for my potions class." Sylvia went to quickly excuse herself, going to stride past Leta and pretend she wasn't there.

"Of course, see you around!" Leta called as Sylvia quickly shut the large door behind her.

Not only were there dreadful rumours circulating the school about her, now she was attracting the very friends her mother used to warn about her.

 _Never attack an unarmed person, Sylvia. The only coward there is then, is you._ Her mother used to say.

Things in her life were going from bad to worse – quickly.

* * *

 _(17th October, 5th Year)_

Sylvia sat in one of the few abandoned towers in the castle. It was fast becoming the only place where she could find some reprieve from the insanity that had now become her everyday life. She could no longer sit in the library for her studying without hearing the whispering of her, and the Gryffindor common room felt too crowded and full of nervous looks. She had distanced herself from everyone, most of all her new _best-friend –_ Leta.

Sylvia had never noticed her before, even though they were in the same Care of Magical Creatures and potions class, but now it's all she ever saw. Leta would smile and wave to her in the corridor, sit next to Sylvia in the library and talk about odd creatures (she would have gotten along with Newt well, Sylvia thought) and had begun to shun anyone away who so much as got within a foot of them. Sylvia had luckily managed to keep her away from Newt. Her presence had quickly become insufferable.

So there she sat, alone in the cold breeze, hearing the distant laughing and shouting of students whom she could no longer associate with. The world had quickly become black and white.

"Oh, there you are." A light voice called. Sylvia stiffened for a moment, thinking the dark-haired-dark-witch had found her, but an unruly mop of auburn poked around the edge of the door.

She had almost forgotten for a while, that Newt had even existed, being too wrapped up in her own problems.

"Hello, Newt," Sylvia muttered, placing a bookmark in the Herbology book she had been pretending to read.

Newt stepped up the remaining steps into the room, his hands in his pockets and he cleared his throat awkwardly. Sylvia had long lost the ability to pretend she was alright.

"It's... nice weather, I suppose," Newt mumbled, staring out one of the large windows that had long lost its stained glass. It was clearly terrible weather.

Sylvia hummed in reply, her arms in her lap and staring at her shoes.

"There's a trip to Hogsmeade at the weekend... I was wondering... well, only thinking..." He coughed into his fist. "Are you going?"

Sylvia shook her head solemnly. "I don't think that would be wise."

"Y-yes... of course." He shuffled his feet. "I didn't see you at lunch today? They had cucumb-"

"I'm going to take these books back to the library, Newt. I'll see you... around." Sylvia quickly collected the books she had scattered around her and stood up.

She had nearly reached the entrance to the stairs when Newt called behind her. "Sylvia."

She turned around slowly with a sigh, looking at him expectantly. He seemed to tear his mind up about something for a moment before quickly walking towards her. Newt took the books out of Sylvia's arm before she could protest.

"Follow me."

"What-" Newt took a hold of her arm and began to lead her downstairs.

They were running at such a pace that Sylvia almost tripped down the stairs more than once. They quickly paced through the corridors of the castle, some of which she had never seen before and all were deserted.

"Newt, where are we going?" Sylvia called, even though they were an arms distance away, Newt seemed to be somewhere else. The Newt that she knew anyway.

"Somewhere perhaps we shouldn't." He called back.

They walked out the front of the castle, and Sylvia noticed the sun was sinking behind the Scottish mountains in the distance.

At first, Sylvia thought they were heading towards the quidditch grounds until they sprinted right past it.

They were heading towards the Forbidden Forest. As it was getting dark. She knew Newt could be odd, but never breaking several school rules kind of odd.

Without hesitation, they ran into the forest and the sounds of the castle and its inhabitants fizzled out into silence. As did the light. When the darkness became too pressing, Newt finally released Sylvia's arm and withdrew his wand.

" _Lumos_." He whispered. The light wasn't inherently bright, and it barely illuminated their faces.

Sylvia withdrew her wand too and copied his spell hesitantly. The Forbidden Forest was much more daunting in the dark, and every crunch or crack of a branch beneath them sent Sylvia's heart haywire. Newt, however, seemed calm. He navigated the forest with a surety that only suggested he had done this many times before. This only proceeded to make Sylvia more nervous. Knowing him fairly well, her mind started to race with whatever strange creature he was no doubt going to show her. Something probably dangerous, no doubt.

"We're nearly there." He whispered. His whispering did little to comfort her.

Whilst the ground outside of the forest was cold and stiff in the winter breeze, inside the depths of the forest she found everything was dewy and mossy. Her school shoes were not made for adventures, she found out. Slipping on a particularly slippery root, Sylvia (to her shame) squawked in surprise before a strong arm gripped around her waist. Newt helped her on her feet again and she quickly detached herself from his hold. She muttered a quiet thank you and was grateful that in the pale light of her wand that he couldn't see her flushing cheeks. He seemed not bothered, though, as they pressed on.

Then they reached a small clearing with a very small sapling in the middle. At least, she originally thought it was. As they walked towards it, she realised it was a collection of branches stuck together to resemble a sapling. Sylvia never penned Newt as the artistic type. She waited for him to explain and when they reached touching distance of it, he did.

"At the start of the year I was helping out the professor tend to his salamanders, and there was a small commotion nearby. Some of the younger students thought it would be entertaining to set a tree on fire." He frowned slightly. "They didn't realise it was home to a family of Bowtruckles." He placed his wand under his arm. "Most of them died, sadly, but I managed to rescue one."

Sylvia connected the dots easily and focused her eyes on what she thought was a tiny leaf moving in the breeze - until she realised there wasn't a breeze that deep in the forest.

"The professor didn't approve too much, but Bowtruckles are fairly timid creatures who do not create an awful lot of trouble so..."

"You built this?" She finished.

Newt seemed slightly embarrassed. "I tried integrating him into another family but..."

The small leaf outstretched its tiny arms towards Newt, chattering softly, and the wizard extended a finger gently. The being was just about large enough to wrap its arms around his thin finger.

"He's pretty attached."

Sylvia smiled, for the first time in a while. To see what was then a tiny stick insect cling to Newt's finger lovingly was a memory she wouldn't soon forget.

"So, you come here... often?" She asked quietly. The Bowtruckle observed Sylvia with its tiny eyes curiously.

"Every night." He said quickly. "J-just to make sure he's getting on alright... of course. Bowtruckles are quite social creatures..."

Sylvia nodded in understanding. They sat down on the floor together, content in the silence. The darkness of the forest didn't seem as intimidating anymore.

The Bowtruckle chattered to Newt in a high pitch that Sylvia couldn't understand, but apparently her friend could.

"This is Sylvia. She's my... friend." He held his hand up and the creature stood on top of his finger, eyeing the witch.

"Um, hello," Sylvia said hesitantly in return.

"I know your not incredibly... _fond_ of creatures but I thought maybe it could help take your mind off things?"

Sylvia smiled at her friend warmly, and she recalled her talk with Dumbledore at her career meeting.

"Thank you, Newt."

"Maybe we could look after him... together?" Newt stroked the creature softly. "Be his surrogate parents – so to speak."

Sylvia chuckled. "If... does he have a name?"

"I've quite taken to calling him Pickett." He said proudly.

An incredibly odd name, Sylvia thought, but it was very... _Newt_.

"If Pickett's okay with it?"

Pickett squeaked at Newt.

"Definitely. Though I think you may have to take on the paternal role..." Newt cleared his throat. "He... seems to think I'm his mother."

Sylvia laughed. "I'll try."

* * *

 _(4th November, 5th Year)_

"And then you stir counter-clockwise..."

Sylvia did as instructed, hand clammy from the steam of her cauldron and nerves.

"Add one rat's tail..."

She picked up the tail and deposited it in her pot gently, flinching reactively, but sighing when nothing went 'boom'.

"And one more stir clockwise..."

With a deep breath, she swirled the wooden ladle once more clockwise around the cauldron.

Both she and Newt peered into the pot apprehensively, and sure enough, the thick mixture began to turn a dark blue.

"Yes!" Sylvia cheered and Newt chuckled.

The professor came meandering over at the small commotion. Peering his balding head over Sylvia's tall shoulder and into the pot, he smiled and patted her on the back.

"There we go, dear! What a wonderful mixture indeed!" He stared around the class. "And everyone seems to have their eyebrows..." He gave the potion a small stir and muttered evaluations to himself. "10 points to Gryffindor for the improvement!"

Sylvia's smile was infallible as she stared at her cauldron. Her grades had been steadily improving over the course of the year, with the help of Newt and some extra hours in the library, and her goal of at least achieving a passing grade in potions seemed closer than ever.

They duo discussed the achievement avidly, as people began rounding up their ingredients and taking their samples.

But Sylvia felt her before she saw her, and when she tore her eyes away from Newt's gentle smile, she saw her standing at their table.

"Well done, Sylvia!" Leta smiled, walking around the table sorely uninvited. She stood on her toes and peered her head into Sylvia's cauldron, humming appreciatively. "A good poison never goes amiss." She said vaguely as she winked at Sylvia. The taller witch frowned.

"And neither does a good cure, I suppose." Newt piped in from Sylvia's side, and it was only then Leta noticed Newt standing next to them.

She looked at him carefully, her face intimidatingly blank. "It all comes down to circumstance, I suppose."

Newt looked at her oddly.

"Newt, this is Leta Lestrange. My... friend."

Leta smiled her sweet smile and stuck out her hand quickly. Newt took it hesitantly, flinching slightly at Leta's harsh shake.

"Newt? Newton Scamander? _You're_ Theseus's little brother?" She questioned, not bothering to hide the rude disbelief in her voice.

Frowning slightly and staring at his shoes, he nodded once.

"He's the chaser for the Hufflepuff team too." Sylvia butted in quickly, her heart quickening. "You might remember him from when he won the last match against Slytherin."

"Of course," Leta said indifferently. "Quidditch doesn't particularly matter, though, does it?"

"Neither do opinions, _particularly_." Her distaste for the smaller girl was growing at a rapid pace.

The Lestrange reviewed Sylvia carefully but smiled politely nonetheless. "We'll agree to disagree."

Sylvia ignored her and started to collect her excess ingredients. Leta, thankfully, took this as her cue to leave and did so without further comment.

Glancing up, she saw the other witch walking back over to her table – oddly alone, she noticed.

"Insufferable girl." Sylvia seethed between clenched teeth as she collected a sample of her potion.

"She... wasn't _too_ bad, really," Newt muttered as Sylvia looked up. He was looking in the Lestrange's direction with an odd look in his eye.

Sylvia's frown deepened so intensely that it gave her a migraine later on.

* * *

 _(20th November, 5th Year)_

"You're not heading home for Christmas?" Newt asked one day, in Sylvia's private retreat – the tallest abandoned tower. An awful, bitter breeze was blowing through the open windows, but with a few old tomes that the librarian wouldn't miss and a fire charm (safely cast by Sylvia), they built themselves a little fire. They had even brought the tree from deep in the Forbidden Forest into the room, and putting their minds together had managed to enchant it to look and feel almost like a real sapling. Pickett chattered happily in his corner.

"No... my mother thought it best I stay here." Sylvia said, poking the fake fire with the tip of her wand absent-mindedly. "They're still receiving a lot of hate and thought it safer here."

Newt nodded and tucked his long legs closer to himself. He sat in quiet thought for a moment. "You could always stay with us? I'm sure my mother won't mind, she always enjoys the extra company..."

Sylvia smiled to herself. "It's quite alright, Newt. It's quieter here at Christmas, or so I'm told." She had always spent Christmas at home. "I'll be fine."

"Well," Newt said with a glint in his eye. "I suppose I'll have to give you this now then." He reached behind himself and grabbed a small, brown parcel. It had a red ribbon tied rather messily on the top. He turned back to her and handed her the present.

Sylvia sat dumbfounded for a second. They had never given each other gifts before.

"Newt... I..." Sylvia stumbled as she grasped the package as if it was made of glass.

"Don't worry about getting me anything." He said consolingly as she stared at him wide-eyed. "My family gets me more than enough."

"Thank you," Sylvia whispered, toying with the ribbon on top.

"Well?" Newt said smiling. "Open it!"

She laughed and gently pulled the ribbon, the brown paper shielding the gift beneath came apart.

Sylvia's eyes watered.

Beneath the paper was a small, wooden box – the size of a jewellery box. It had a golden Hippogriff engraved on the lid, with its wings majestically outstretched.

"It's a...um... jewellery box. I didn't have a tremendous amount of money so I decided to make something pract-"

"You made this?" Sylvia gasped, glancing back at the carefully carved portrait on the lid.

"Y-yes, I know I'm not-"

Sylvia quickly placed the jewellery box on the ground and lunged towards Newt. She wrapped her arms around him tighter than she had ever hugged anyone before. Sylvia hoped it said everything she couldn't.

Newt stiffened for a second, his arms awkwardly beside his side.

Sylvia snickered. "This is the part where you hug back."

"Oh! O-of course," He wrapped his arms around her back and hugged her back.

After a minute, or what felt like hours, she let go. She turned her head away from Newt and quickly wiped her eyes.

"That is really magnificent." Sylvia laughed, picking it up again. She looked at him and noticed how brightly his cheeks were aflame, his ears that poked out of still unruly hair were practically a deep shade of cherry.

"I-it's... not-, I m-mean... I know-"

"Newt." She said softly. "It's brilliant."

* * *

 _(25th December, 5th Year)_

Sylvia had just come back from the Christmas dinner, her stomach practically full to bursting. Overall, it had been a very pleasant day. She had woken up to a selection of presents from people she didn't even expect gifts off. Her mother had sent her another book on defensive spells and her father had messily wrapped up a new pair of heels that were a size too big for her. Peculiarly, Newt's mother sent her a gift too. It was a thin and worn children's book about a baby Hippogriff who studied magic. Strange as the book was (even for magical standards), what was even stranger was the message she had written inside.

 _This was Newt's favourite book as a child, perhaps your children might enjoy it too!_

Sylvia cringed and frowned simultaneously as she read the message. Did she mean her children when she was older, or by ' _your_ ' did she mean her and _Newt's_. It was very odd and Sylvia quickly hid it in the bottom of her school trunk, her cheeks flushed.

Even Malvin had sent her a gift. Though they had not spoken for most of the school year so far, he had gifted her a large box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. It had a small note of apology tied to it. Sylvia had smiled at the gift, no doubt an intentional throwback to the time when she had tried to eat a whole box of them in one go (promptly throwing up shortly after).

And then she opened the last gift. It a fairly sizeable package, with dark wrapping paper and a white ribbon laced perfectly into a bow at the top. It had no note or writing to say who it was from, but Sylvia opened it anyway.

Inside the wrapping paper, was a dark black tome made of a strange leather. Gingerly opening it, her heart began to pump faster.

It was a very dark book full of spells Sylvia would never dream of casting on her worst enemy. The three unforgivable curses were in there, with crude depictions of their effects next to each of them. No doubt, Sylvia thought, that if she was ever caught with this book she would be kicked out of the school faster than she could say 'Leta Lestrange'. Sylvia quickly ran out of her dormitory and threw the book on the fire in the common room – thankfully vacated. The book emitted a bright green light before finally succumbing to the flame and burning.

Overall, she supposed, the day wasn't terrible. That was until she returned to her dormitory after dinner.

Sat, on Sylvia's bed, was Leta Lestrange – the Hippogriff jewellery box in her hand.

"What are you doing here?" Sylvia barked, annoyed to see both Leta Lestrange and Leta Lestrange holding one of the most treasured gifts Sylvia had ever been given. She briefly wondered how on earth she had managed to get in the Gryffindor dormitory in the first place.

"Just came to wish you 'Merry Christmas', of course!" Leta smiled, kicking her small legs freely. "A rather odd gift, isn't it?" Leta held it up.

Evidently annoyed, Sylvia strode towards her and went to remove it from the witch, but Leta pulled it back towards her.

"Really, it's rather useless. A talented witch like yourself needs something more useful. Did you like the book I gave you?" Leta smiled, the dimples in her feminine face showing.

The same adrenaline rose in Sylvia's stomach. "I burnt it."

Leta's face dropped in a second. "You what?"

There was no polite smile or shrug of indifference, there was nothing but a blank stare.

"I burnt it," Sylvia repeated, distaste in her voice becoming more potent. "I wouldn't be caught dead even reading any of those awful spells, let alone casting them. What made you think I would even enjoy such a grotesque thing?"

Leta let out a small puff of air. "Huh." She said simply, looking back to the box in her hand. "So, you like pathetic little trinkets like these," She held the box up again. "But not something powerful? Something to make you unstoppable – impenetrable?"

Sylvia, through her growing annoyance, began to feel uncomfortable. Leta didn't appear angry or even inconvenienced, she seemed... calm. Deathly so.

"... Sure." Sylvia replied. Another tense moment passed.

"Perhaps you're not who I thought you were," Leta said quietly with a calm stare.

"I'm sorry to disappoint." Sylvia sneered, going once again to reach for the box. Leta easily dodged her grab, and gracefully jumped off the bed and moved around Sylvia, until their positions had been reversed.

"Give that back, Leta," Sylvia said calmly.

"You would throw away a chance of power for this?"

"What are you even going on about?" Sylvia said angrily, her voice steadily rising. "I have no desire for power – and I _really_ like that box so stop being a child and give it back."

"A child? _I'm_ the child? You prefer silly little animal trinkets over _my_ book? Why doesn't anyone understand the true potential of our abilities? Why-"

"Are you barking mad?" Sylvia cut in. "Give it back or-"

"Or what?" Leta said lowly.

Sylvia's breath hitched in her throat as she saw the same stare Leta had given Cassandra at the start of the year.

Sylvia took a deep breath. "Just give it back, Leta."

"Or... _what_?" Leta said, her dark eyes glistening widely. Sylvia had the odd suspicion that those words had translated into some sort of challenge. Neither of them backed down from a challenge.

In the split second it took Sylvia to retrieve her wand from her pocket, Leta had already wielded hers.

"Give it back." Sylvia seethed, trying her hardest to keep her arm as still as Leta had hers.

"Come get it then." Leta teased.

Sylvia tried a disarming spell, but Leta deflected it with ease.

"A disarming spell? Really? For someone who associates themselves with the great Gellert Grindelwald, your spell choice is exceptionally laughable."

"My family has nothing to do with that foolish man!" Sylvia shouted. Leta looked oddly surprised.

Sylvia tried a stunning spell, and once again Leta deflected it easily.

"Come on, Sylvia!"

Sylvia's heart was in her throat but she had surpassed anger and went straight to venomous hate. She sent a flurry of offensive spells, one of which she had never tried before, and Leta deflected them – but she struggled this time.

"There we go-"

" _Stupify_!" Sylvia barked - as Leta went to goad her yet again. Preoccupied with insulting Sylvia, Leta had no time to deflect this one and went crashing into a dresser. The spell wasn't powerful enough to do too much damage, though, but it was enough.

The only problem with this is that as Leta went flying – so did the jewellery box.

The box flew out of Leta's hand and into the stone wall, splintering into pieces.

Sylvia gasped and dropped her wand. So caught up into a rage she was that she had almost forgotten about the box altogether. Sylvia ran over to the small wooden pile and fell to her knees.

"Really?" Leta laughed as she got to her feet again. She rubbed the bottom of her back. "You're crying over that silly little-"

A Gryffindor professor came running into girls room, her tight bun threatening to come undone as she surveyed the situation.

"What an earth is going on here?!" She bellowed, looking between Leta rubbing her back, the dented dresser and Sylvia crouched on the floor almost crying over a pile of splinters.

"Oh! Sorry, professor, we were just practicing-"

"Leta?" The professor squawked as she finally recognised the smaller girl. "What on earth are you doing in the Gryffindor dormitory?"

"If you let me finish, professor, I'll tell you," Leta said impatiently.

If Sylvia had not been trying to swallow sobs, she may have found the cheek funny.

"That's quite enough lip from you, girl. You may be a Lestrange-"

"We were practicing our stunning spells for our exams, weren't we Sylvia?" Leta said sweetly.

Sylvia wasn't even listening, she was too busy trying to pick up the pieces. If she had them all, she thought, hopefully she could repair it.

"You do not practice spells outside of the classroom, Lestrange. Now, return to your own dormitory at once!"

Leta rolled her eyes and sent the professor a sarcastic smile as she passed her and left.

"Sylvia?" The professor knelt down next the red-head and placed an affectionate hand on Sylvia's shoulder. "What happened?"

Sylvia stared at the small scattering of wood on the floor, and then to the professor. A few seconds passed by. "Just practicing spells, professor."

The professor evidently didn't buy it.

"Now, Sylvia, you can tell-"

"Leta needed help defending against spells, and I offered to help. I suggested we do it here and Leta agreed. It was a silly mistake, professor. We won't do it again." Sylvia said simply, almost not recognising her own voice.

"Well... if you're sure." She said hesitantly before standing to leave. "If you ever need any assist-"

"I'm fine, professor." Sylvia tried to smile. The professor sighed before leaving.

Had that been the end of it, Sylvia might have looked back at her time in Hogwarts with a smile rather than a grimace – but it was only the beginning.


	5. Chapter 5

_(12_ _th_ _January, 5_ _th_ _Year)_

" _She what?!"_ Malvin gasped, hand to his mouth.

The Christmas holidays had been and gone, and the term had begun once again. The Hogwarts corridors were still filled with nasty draughts and the snow still clung thickly to the grounds outside – but this all meant nothing compared to the nasty storm raging inside of Sylvia.

She had stuck to her dormitory for most of the holidays, so filled with turmoil and confusion she was. When Malvin and the rest of the students who went home for the holiday had returned, she quickly collared him and drew him aside.

"You should have seen the look in her eyes, Malvin. I thought she would strike me dead but she... didn't." Sylvia explained, keeping her voice low as they chatted in the corner of the busy Gryffindor common room.

"You have to tell a professor!" He whispered with exclamation.

"And say what? _She_ didn't cast a single spell, Malvin! I did!"

The blonde boy hummed and Sylvia hugged her legs to her chest. It was an awful predicament. To Sylvia, Leta was clearly, in a word, nuts. She didn't feel safe in her own dormitory, let alone anywhere else in the castle. Sylvia had already told a professor nothing had happened in a stupid moment of bravery. Leta had played the game into her own hands – and there was little Sylvia could do.

"Well, did she make any threats? Like _'I'll get my revenge if it's the last thing I do'_ kind of threats?" Malvin asked, with a poor imitation of Leta herself.

"Not exactly," Sylvia said. "She has this ability to do it just with her eyes."

Malvin nodded. "Yeah, I can see that." He toyed with the sleeve of his jumper – which was grotesquely over-chewed. "Maybe... she'll move on to someone else? I mean, she knows you don't dabble in the dark arts, now, and she certainly knows what you really think of her."

It felt as if something crashed to the bottom of Sylvia's stomach. What if she moved onto Newt?

"She better not," Sylvia said fiercely.

Malvin may have been an annoying gossip and had some questionable habits, but he was certainly not slow. He eyed Sylvia.

"I don't think she'll target Newt, Sylvia. She seems the type to go after competition. A challenge, if you will." He said.

"He's not incapable, Malvin," Sylvia said, with a warning look.

"Oh, I know that!" He responded quickly. "I was just saying..."

"I get it. We should probably head off, the start of year dinner begins soon." Sylvia stood up and straightened her back with a small click. The amount of tension that had begun to grow there was almost insufferable.

"Fantastic!" He clapped Sylvia on the back. "And nothing will cheer you up quite like a nice dinner!"

It didn't.

* * *

 _(2nd March, 5th Year)_

Rumours and stories of Sylvia's family had begun to calm down after the Christmas break, and she couldn't have been more grateful. Most students moved onto more exciting and relevant gossip of the time – mainly of the end of year O.W.L's and upcoming quidditch matches.

Sylvia had caught up with Newt soon enough and she made sure any discussion of Leta Lestrange was quickly diverted to _anything_ else. Thankfully, she didn't have to do this too often, as Newt was far too caught up in talking about how Polly had recently given birth – and Sylvia was happy to discuss something much more cheerful than her own recent events.

Malvin had told her to write to her mother for advice, who had until not long ago had been an Auror. He was sure that she would have something constructive to say about the whole affair, having been an expert on unsavoury characters for a fairly long time. So Sylvia had sent a letter to her mother at home, explaining everything that had happened between herself and the dark-haired menace. She anxiously waited for her reply – and when it did come, it was nothing like she expected.

 _Child,_

 _Stay away._

 _Do not – and I mean do not – converse with her any longer. Do not so much as breathe in her direction. I have had enough difficulties with the Lestrange's in the past and they hold far too much power in our world for you to be picking silly fights with them! Her father was the reason I lost my job at the Ministry – and that was only because I caught his lot trying to smuggle magical artifacts out of the country without a permit. Keep your distance and focus on your O.W.L's, Sylvia. I will see you in the Easter holidays._

 _Your father sends his well-wishes and thanks you for the magical snow-globe._

 _Mother xoxo_

Sylvia scrunched up the note and threw it out of the open window. It proved no help at all. What if Leta came for her? Was she meant to duck in fear, hide away? Adalard squawked impatiently.

"I have no note for you, Adalard. Go away."

The owl nipped at Sylvia's arm meanly before beginning it's long journey home.

Sylvia descended the dark steps of the owlery sullen. She had hoped for some words of wisdom, or even better, a useful spell. Not words of fear.

Night had almost fallen, but Sylvia was in no mood to rush back to the dormitory – even if Dippet himself found her outside after the curfew. The crisp night air helped clear her head until the crisp night air carried hints of smoke.

"Wh-" She saw a gangly frame running towards her, and feared for a moment that it was a teacher until the tall shadow grew closer – shouting her name.

"Sylvia!" Newt shouted.

"Newt?"

Newt finally came in full view, his hair charred and his clothes even more so. He was panting wildly and doubled over for a second before exclaiming himself.

"Malvin... said you were here. You've got to come – quickly... there's a fire in... the tower... Pickett... Pickett's in trouble!"

"A fire?" Sylvia repeated. "In the tower?"

She hadn't been to the tower in the while. Had Newt tried to set a fire to keep Pickett warm and it accidentally lost control?

"Yes... just – come on! I'll explain later, we need to put it out before a teacher finds out about Pickett!"

Sylvia nodded and they both sprinted through the corridors – Newt in the lead. The jogged up the stairs – trying their very hardest not to trip up them.

Sylvia smelt the damage before she saw it – the higher they descended the more thickly it hung to the air. She covered her mouth with her sleeve.

Opening the door, the small room was practically set ablaze. Sylvia could just about spot the fake-sapling sitting in the far corner – untouched – but the fire was slowly working its way towards it.

Without preamble, Sylvia cast a water spell, _Auguamenti_ , but the water that expelled from her wand evaporated on contact with the blaze.

"What?"

"I tried that too – it's like the fire's alive," Newt shouted over the roar of the flames.

If they let it get any bigger, someone would be sure to notice it from one of the windows. The fire appeared to dance around the room, climbing up and down the walls with grace – and seemed to toy with the idea of Pickett's tree.

Sylvia tried to think – and quickly. Newt practically danced in his spot he was that distressed.

"I'll try and make a break in it, run and grab Pickett!" Sylvia commanded, raising her wand and pointing.

Controlling a regular flame was simple, but flame with its own will was proving almost impossible. Sylvia's brow began to perspire under the strain of both the magic she was trying to control and the heat of the flame. Newt eyed her anxiously as the flame began to almost shudder.

"I've... almost... got... it..." Sylvia wheezed and sure enough, a very slim crack in the wall of fire began to appear. Instantaneously Newt burst through it, covering his face with his long arms. He ran towards the sapling and searched it frankly.

"Hurry, Newt!" Sylvia shouted. The veins in her forehead were ready to pop.

Newt quickly cooed to Pickett, who seemed quite reluctant to leave his perch – fire or no fire. Sylvia was quickly losing her grip on the fire.

"Newt!" Sylvia repeated, as her magical hold on the small gap in the fire was beginning to loosen.

Newt finally gave up with trying to coerce the small, green creature and grabbed him. He sprinted across the room and managed to make it through the small gap just before Sylvia let go of her spell. It was by the very small hairs on his chin.

Sylvia fell to her knees in a puff, and Newt had to nearly drag her out of the room with Pickett safely tucked in his pocket. He shut the door loudly behind him as Sylvia sagged to the floor.

"We... have to tell... a teacher...Newt..."

He knelt by her side. "Not before we get you to the hospital wing, first."

"I'm just... tired... What on earth was that?" Sylvia huffed as he snaked his arm under hers and around her back before lifting her to her feet.

"I think... that may have been Fiendfyre. My mother told me about it once." They descended the stairs carefully.

Sylvia had never exhausted herself using magic before. "What?"

"You know how to make a magical umbrella but know nothing about Fiendfyre?" Newt questioned.

Sylvia shrugged, too tired to argue.

They had almost made it to the bottom when Sylvia's eyelids began to sag. Noticing this, Newt gave her a little shake.

"We're almost there, Sylvia," She opened her eyes a little more. "And you are far too heavy for me to carry."

"Pfft," Sylvia puffed. "What happened to all that Hippogriff fitness, hm?"

Her legs began to feel much too weak to support herself any longer and asked Newt to sit them on one of the benches in the courtyard they had just begun to pass. He sat Sylvia down gently before joining her. They sat in silence for a moment, and Sylvia heard Pickett's muffled chattering coming from Newt's top pocket. He didn't sound pleased.

She spied Newt's arm, the sleeve badly charred and the freckled skin underneath wasn't fairing any better.

"Here." She said, gently grasping his left arm and pulling it towards her.

Newt hissed as Sylvia examined the damage. "You don't h-have to, I can get it healed in the-"

"Shh." Sylvia hushed as she wielded her wand again.

Her body was screaming at her to not use any more magic, but seeing her friend evidently in pain and doing a poor job of hiding it was something she couldn't ignore.

She pulled the charred sleeve up. _"Ferula."_

Bandages appeared out of the tip of her wand and wound themselves around his thin forearm. They tucked in tightly at the end, covering the worst of the damage.

Newt observed the magic the same way he observed any spell Sylvia cast, with awe and admiration.

"I think I'm going to definitely use that one." He whispered, admiring the magical bandages.

"Hm." Sylvia hummed as she leaned her head against the cold stone wall behind them, feeling oddly content even though they were very late for their curfew. She craned her head to the tower where they just come from. The fire had either not spread, or was starting to diminish because she couldn't see anything through the little windows at the top. "Is Pickett okay?"

Newt peeked into his pocket and sure enough, the leafy-creature poked his head out hesitantly. "A little annoyed, perhaps, but fine. I would have been quite upset had anything happened to him."

"And I would have been quite upset if you were upset," Sylvia said, her body too tired to filter the things she would not usually say.

Newt looked up wide-eyed, as he always did when he was caught off guard, and although Sylvia wasn't looking at him, she could feel his gaze upon her.

At that time, she could have never realised the impact those simple words would have on her life from then on.

If she was aware who was watching from the shadows, she might have kept her mouth shut.

* * *

 _(5th April, 5th Year)_

The fire had luckily burned out and attracted no attention from anyone, but for both Pickett's, Newt's and her own safety – they chose not to use the tower any longer. Newt had no idea who had cast the spell, and he didn't really care as long as Pickett was safe, though Sylvia had a few speculations. Pickett, though, now permanently resided in Newt's pocket, much to Pickett's annoyance.

Luck had apparently had shone on them that night, the situation could have turned grave very quickly, but luck was very fickle – as Sylvia would soon find out.

"And then Peter said that he had no interest in her what-so-ever, but his shoes said differently. He has these disgustingly ugly loafer's that he only ever wears when he's interested in someone! He thinks they're enchanted by his father or something... because his mother is so much prettier than his father – but I personally think that's a matter for debate-"

Malvin's lips were moving so quick that Sylvia wouldn't have been able to hear him even if they sat in the silence of the library let alone in a busy corridor. Sylvia, in a stupid moment of kindness, had asked Malvin if they wanted to study in the warm weather outside out near the lake. She had forgotten, though, that when you invite Malvin anywhere it has the unfortunate clause that his vocal chords must accompany him. So Sylvia walked alongside him, cursing whatever divine being that Newt was at quidditch practice.

They walked out onto the castle grounds, inhaling the soft afternoon air and feeling the light spring sun upon their skin. Had it not been for Malvin's continuous rabble, they would have been able to hear the spring songbirds out in full force too. Picking a spot near an old tree with a clear view over the lake, they sat down in the shade and Sylvia withdrew her textbooks from her bag. Malvin, however, withdrew a child's weight worth's of muffins and pastries from lunch.

"How on earth-"

"Did I smuggle these out? Interesting question, Sylvia, allow me to explain."

Sylvia zoned out immediately and picked up her Herbology book. It was the main lesson she was struggling with at the time, and decided to start with the worst of her studying – and hopefully, Malvin would get the hint (he never did) and shut up.

Minutes of idle rattling swam by Sylvia's ears, as she was still trying to figure out what exactly a Mandrake was _for_. First-year work it may have been, but Sylvia had been way too distressed at the time after the teacher had informed her that the little wriggling roots could actually scream. Too deep into one-part studying, two-parts reverie, she hadn't realised Malvin had stopped talking – and not because he noticed Sylvia had stopped listening.

"Hey... Sylvia? Isn't that..."

"Wha-?"

Sylvia followed Malvin's eyeline to just outside of the quidditch stadium, squinting hard. She briefly wondered how on earth his eyesight was so good until her eyes focused on a tall, gangly presence in the distance – once again she mistook him for a teacher.

"Newt? Yeah, he had quidditch practice this afternoon." She rolled her eyes and turned back to her book when Malvin spoke again.

"No... that's not who I was pointing at."

Sylvia huffed and shut up her book a little more aggressively than was necessary, rightly giving up on ever studying in Malvin's presence.

Sylvia craned her neck and focused again, and sure enough, she saw a smaller figure standing next to her friend. She used her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, as they sun cast over them.

"Oh..." Sylvia said as the two figure began to draw closer.

Newt was smiling, and not one of his reserved half-smiles, Sylvia observed. She grimaced, as the tale Leta Lestrange was telling must have been a truly knee-slapping classic to make Newt laugh so care-free.

"Should we-"

"They're coming this way." Sylvia gasped. Malvin shared in her anxiety.

Sylvia and Leta had not talked since their tête-à-tête in the Gryffindor dormitory. Sylvia hadn't so much as shared a second glance with the girl, even in the few classes they shared, and yet here they were. Newt waved to Sylvia. Sylvia awkwardly held up her hand. "Oh, dear," Malvin whispered under his breath. He went to stand up but was promptly halted by Sylvia's stiff grab at his robes.

"Don't you dare, Malvin Mallory." She growled, "If I have to suffer through this so do you – Hi, Newt!" Sylvia greeted, quickly returning her hand to her lap. Malvin slowly sat back down.

"Yeah... Hello, Newt." Malvin smiled. "And... Leta."

Leta returned the smile. "Hello... you." She turned her head slowly to Sylvia. "Hello, Sylvia!" She said, ever sickly sweet as she always had.

"We thought we might join you," Newt said cheerfully, his cheeks still pink from practice and his hair pointing every direction on the compass.

Sylvia couldn't hide her frown at the word 'we'. _Since when were they such good friends?_ Sylvia thought.

Leta, apparently, didn't need an invitation and sat almost knee-to-knee next to Sylvia. "It being a lovely afternoon and all." She finished. Peering over, she spied the Herbology book in Sylvia's lap. "Isn't that a first-year Herbology book?"

Sylvia tucked it closer to herself. "Maybe." She said stiffly.

Newt sat next to Malvin and turned down an awkward offer of a muffin from him.

"I suppose we can't all be good at everything," Leta said casually, before turning to Newt. "I didn't know that Newt was so talented with creatures!"

"I'm aware..." Sylvia said as she shared a small glance with Malvin.

"Why didn't you tell me, Sylvia?" Leta grinned, with a playful swat on Sylvia's arm. She felt the muscles in her bicep flinch.

"I... was under the impression that everyone already knew..." Sylvia mumbled, trying to shuffle closer to Malvin without it looking obvious. It did.

"He has the most riveting trivia about Hippogriffs. Some of which I never knew!" Leta smiled in his direction, straight white teeth in clear view. Sylvia very much wanted to knock them out.

"She knows quite a lot too." Newt chimed in.

Sylvia tried her hardest to smile, she really did, but between Leta and Newt's grins and Malvin's awkward glances, it was much closer to a snarl.

"Just like you know a lot about offensive spells!"

And there it was, the atom bomb had not been invented yet, but Sylvia felt its fallout all the same. Malvin visibly tensed, Newt frowned and Leta continued to smile. A bird cawed in the background.

"Yes," Sylvia said. "I do." She hoped Leta could hear the warning in her voice. She either didn't - or didn't care.

"I mean the way I flew up against that dresser," She giggled. "I really wasn't prepared!"

"What?" Newt said, the frown on his forehead deepening.

"And the way you goaded me into it... It was almost as if you really wanted it." Sylvia growled, finally understanding what Leta was doing.

"You... attacked Leta?" Newt muttered, staring at Sylvia as if they had never met.

"Oh, I wouldn't say _attacked_ , per se." Leta waved Newt off, but he didn't look comforted.

Sylvia stared at Newt helplessly. "N-no-"

"The hospital wing sorted me straight out, Newt, don't you worry!" She laughed heartily, even though no one else looked the slightest bit amused. "My back certainly turned out better than that poor box of yours, though, didn't it Sylvia?"

Newt reacted almost as if he had been shot. Sylvia glanced helplessly at Malvin and found the most talkative person she had ever met (and ever would meet) had absolutely nothing to say.

"You better watch yourself with this one, Newt!" Leta was laying it on so thick that every retort or defense that Sylvia could think of suddenly wasn't enough.

Newt tore his eyes from Sylvia, his face not hiding a single emotion. It morphed from sadness to confusion and finally landed on something Sylvia could only describe as slight betrayal.

"Oh, is that the time? I'd better be off. See you later, Sylvia." Her work clearly done, she stood up (with a nicely added rub of her back), and departed from the group whistling.

"I... b-better be off too..." Newt trailed off, mumbling something about awaiting his mother's letter.

Words failed her, events had transpired so quickly. A small 'ok' was all she could manage. Malvin lifted his hand and muttered a half-hearted goodbye. Newt disappeared into the distance.

"What on earth just happened?" Sylvia said breathlessly.

* * *

 _(19th May, 5th Year)_

Newt and Sylvia had not talked since that day. Sylvia was too embarrassed to so much as look him in the eye, and no endless stream of excuses seemed adequate to cover up the giant mountain of trouble Leta had created for her. She _had_ fired first, she _had_ destroyed the jewellery box and she _had_ sent Leta flying up against the dresser. Sylvia was racked with guilt, and spent the little time outside of the mountainous amount of school work and studying doing... nothing. Malvin had tried to console her and had even offered to talk to Newt on her behalf, but Sylvia dismissed the idea. What she hoped Newt needed was time, and Sylvia resigned herself to waiting for him to talk first. This was perhaps her biggest mistake.

The first class they had together since what Sylvia had named, 'the incident', was potions. She had walked to class by herself and walked over to her usual table. She spotted Newt in the ingredients pantry, and while he collected his things she mentally rehearsed something to say. Of course, that completely went out of the window when both he and Leta came out of the cupboard, smiling with arms full of jars.

"Hi, Sylvia." Leta greeted, placing her jars upon the table. "Newt was just telling me about the most exciting fact about Occamy's."

Sylvia, for once, found she really, _really_ , didn't care. Any hopes of her apologising to her friend or trying to reignite their friendship would be completely useless in Leta's presence, Sylvia knew. The Lestrange was just too good with words and Sylvia would leave once again looking like a fool.

"Oh?" Sylvia said, hoping that would be the end of it.

"It's not that interesting..." Newt mumbled, not making eye-contact with Sylvia as he rolled up his sleeves.

Somehow, him not looking at her at all was more painful than anything Leta could have said at that time. How could he support her through the whole business with Grindelwald and not through some meaningless playground fight?

Sylvia, evidently, wasn't aware at that time quite the power that words could hold – and Leta was very good with them.

The potions class continued on, rather painfully slow for Sylvia – and she found it was her worst to date.

Her concoction, no matter how many time she re-read the instructions, wasn't turning out the way it was meant to. It was thick and gloopy when the mixture was meant to be smooth and watery, and Sylvia finally resigned herself to failure as she raided the pantry for the fifteenth time for something that could save it. There was nothing.

When the professor came walking around, he pinched his nose in disgust at Sylvia's cauldron. "Dear lord, girl! What in Merlin's name possessed you to use... is that _Asphodel_ I smell?"

"What?" Sylvia said, staring at the professor oddly.

"The sour smell, dear. This smells more like a draught of Living Death!"

Sylvia wasn't even sure what Asphodel was and frantically checked the ingredients near her. There was horse hair, leeches, a griffin claw, moon-seed and some octopus powder, but nothing that resembled Asphodel.

"I would concentrate more, if I were you, Sylvia. Your potions exam is nearing and the examiners prefer to keep their nostril hairs, dear." The professor warned, before moving on to another table.

Sylvia wasn't so much mad as she was confused. She glanced at Leta at the other side of the table and noticed the briefest flicker of a smirk.

"You cursed, insufferable, little cow-" Sylvia began, before she saw Leta's face morph from smugness to surprise in the blink of an eye.

"I'm sorry?" She said, a picture of innocence.

"I have no idea what Asphodel looks like, and it just happens to fall into my cauldron?" Sylvia barked, her hands grasped tightly onto the sides of her table.

"I'm sorry, Sylvia, you must have confused it with the octopus powder," Leta said calmly.

"Confused? I'm not an idiot, Leta!" Sylvia said, anger bubbling in her chest stronger than the mixture in her cauldron. She had completely forgotten Newt was next to her until he spoke.

"I would have seen her, Sylvia. No-one's been near your potion except you." All friendliness in Newt's voice had gone, and Sylvia saw the same look on his face as that day sitting on the grass outside. It was the look you gave someone you didn't recognise.

"Really, Sylvia." She looked at the red-head tiredly. "I'm not brilliant at Arithmancy but I'm not going to blame my incorrect star-chart on someone else!" Leta laughed, glancing at Newt with _'oh, what is she like'_ look. Sylvia had to swallow the curse in her throat. Her hands had started to shake.

And like routine, there it had happened again. Sylvia had made herself look like the villain in front of the closest friend she had, and with every word that left Sylvia's mouth – she felt Newt distance himself.

Sylvia scoffed and packed up her ingredients quickly. She wanted to be anywhere, absolutely _anywhere_ , other than that room. At that moment in time, she never wanted to look at those dark, smooth curls or that sweet smile ever again.

* * *

 _(12_ _th_ _July, 5_ _th_ _Year)_

And like a ghost, Sylvia disappeared into the background of her own life.

She spoke to no-one other than Malvin, who was the only person in the entirety of the school (or so she thought) who saw things from her side and never spoke one more word than was necessary to anyone. Deciding it was for the better, she moved tables in her potions class, kept her distance in her Care of Magical Creatures class and asked to switch seats in her Defence Against the Dark Art's classes. The way Newt had started to look at her proved too much for her to bear, and with her O.W.L's fast approaching, she decided something had to give, and so with an impossibly heavy heart - she cut herself out of his life.

Newt himself was rarely seen without Leta at his side, whether he wanted it or not. He apparently did. Leta cast jokes, tucked her hair behind her ear and batted her eyelashes in a way Sylvia never could, and as the school year began to close, Newt had lost one friend and gained another. The two of them grew closer than ever.

As the weeks passed by, Sylvia had spent so much time in the library, people were sure she was a permanent fixture there, but when her O.W.L's had finally arrived - her hard work paid off. They passed without a hitch. Sylvia entered every one of her exams with a clear mind and focused eyes. She didn't dare scan the hall for a sight of Newt or ' _her_ ' as Sylvia had begun to refer to Leta Lestrange as, for fear her mind would be too full of sour memories to recall the charm to deter a Dementor. She was pleased to find this worked, and that anger could be a fantastic stimulant too when it came to casting a stunning spell.

After all of her exams had finished, Sylvia felt a lot cheerier overall. School ended in a week, and she was looking forward to seeing Hogwart's disappear into the distance. Looking at her badly-repaired jewellery box on her bedside table still hurt, but she was glad her exams were at least one problem that had been dealt with.

"You know, we're throwing a little end of year party on Thursday, are you coming? Katie was sure she could smuggle some Firewhiskey from her father." Malvin said as the pair walked up to the Gryffindor dormitory.

"Probably not," Sylvia said, rubbing her still-sore fingers from the exams. "I think I just want to sleep for the rest of the week."

"Pfft, it's a time for celebration!" They stood outside the portrait. "Peaches." The piece of art swung open, and they entered.

"And for rest, Malvin. We can't all have _your_ energy."

The common room was empty, but it came to no surprise, as nearly the entirety of the school was outside enjoying the warm sunshine of summer.

Sylvia sat down heavily in one of the plush armchairs with a sigh. Climbing a thousand steps still proved exhausting, even in her fifth year, especially in the more humid air.

"Hey, there's a note here for you." Sylvia craned her head around the sides of her chair and saw Malvin fiddling with a piece of parchment.

"Oh, that's probably Carson again. Ever since I stopped hanging around with... people, he presumes I'm single."

"Oooo," Malvin cooed. "An admirer? Can I read it?"

"You're actually asking for my permission?" Sylvia laughed. "Go for it, but you've got to do it in a Scottish accent."

Malvin chuckled and cleared his throat, opening the letter as if it was a scroll. "Dear, Sylvia." He said with a very thick accent.

A few seconds of silence passed by and Sylvia looked past her armchair to see what the hold up was. Malvin looked surprised.

"If it's something sexual, Malvin, don't bother-"

"No, it's from Newt."

Sylvia leaped out of her chair. "What?!" She gasped, striding over to where Malvin was standing. "What does it say?" She didn't think she had the nerves to read it herself.

"He wants you to meet him in... the Forbidden Forest? Next Thursday. He says he wants to talk." Malvin muttered as he scanned the note.

"If this is some kind of joke, Malvin..." Sylvia said gravely.

"No, no. Look," He turned the note towards Sylvia, and sure enough the note said exactly what he had said.

"It certainly is his writing..." Sylvia muttered. "And he even signed it again."

"Well, are you going to go?" Malvin asked.

She thought about it for a short moment. It was odd, being as Newt hadn't spoken a single word to her since Leta attached herself to his side. But the letter contained something she couldn't possibly resist – hope.

"Yes." She decided after a moment's deliberation. "Did he say a time?"

"After curfew. That can't be him, surely?" Sylvia forgot that most thought Newt was some kind of goody-two-shoes. He could be quite the rogue when he wanted to be.

"You'd be surprised." Sylvia smiled reminiscently. She slept restlessly that night.

Of course, like many things in her short life so far - it was too good to be true.


	6. Chapter 6

_(16th July, 5th Year)_

Thursday rolled around quicker than Sylvia expected.

Why Newt wanted to meet in the Forbidden Forest was beyond her imagination, but the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Most, if not all, students were at different end of school parties making the corridors perfectly clear for Sylvia to sneak out. She had nothing but her wand and a hopeful heart.

Once out of the castle, she made her way quickly across the school grounds and past the quidditch stadium. Finally standing before the Forbidden Forest, Sylvia realised that Newt had failed to mention where _exactly_ they would meet inside, but she did have an idea.

Casting a light from the tip of her wand, she broke the edge of the forest and disappeared inside – oblivious to the person following her.

Sylvia had a great amount of difficulty finding the clearing she had discovered with Newt over a year ago, as the many times they had ventured into the forest for Pickett, Newt always lead the way.

It took over an hour to finally come across the clearing, and when she did, she was disappointed to find no-one there.

"Newt?" She called. The word echoed terribly throughout the trees.

The silence was almost deafening, except from the occasional crunch of a branch or the call of an owl.

She called his name again and there was still no reply. Had he forgotten? Or had he got caught trying to leave after curfew? Questions with little answers swam through Sylvia's mind as she waited in the near pitch-black darkness. The light from only her wand illuminated little.

Sylvia was almost going to give up and return back to her dormitory, when a blinding light swam past her head.

" _Lumos maxima."_ Uttered a voice, and suddenly the entire clearing was visible.

"Leta?" Sylvia frowned, and sure enough, Leta stepped out into the light, her back straight and her eyes trained on the red-head.

"I can't believe you actually came," Leta said, a slight chuckle in her voice.

"What do you want, Leta?" Sylvia was far too tired for her games, and a strong ache settled in her chest when she realised Newt wasn't coming.

Then it dawned on her that they were alone. Her hand twitched around her wand.

"I thought we should talk properly," Leta explained casually. "Things between us have been a little... strained, as of late. I want to repair that."

"Pfft," Sylvia couldn't have stopped the scoff even if she had actually wanted to. "You've made me look like a complete villain in front of the one person I care about and you want to just... talk? Don't think I don't know your game, Leta."

Leta held her hands up defensively. "I understand. I understand that you may feel a certain type of... way, about me." Sadness briefly flickered across her features. "But I genuinely just wanted to talk. I knew you wouldn't have come if I had asked - so I forged the note."

Sylvia still didn't trust her with every ounce of her being but decided if she was going to come all the way out to the Forbidden Forest at night, then she might at least make it worth her while. She nodded for her to continue.

"Thank you." Leta sighed. She walked forward a few steps but stopped when Sylvia took an equal amount of steps backward. "I know I've been perhaps a little... cruel towards you – but you really hurt me, Sylvia."

" _Hurt you-_ " Sylvia squealed before she cut herself off. She cleared her throat. "Go on."

"I suppose, I was a little jealous of your... _relationship_. You and Newt. Everyone always distances themselves from me because I'm a Lestrange. What you and Newt had – I wanted...I just wanted to be a part of that and you... weren't really accepting."

"Oh, knock it off, Leta." Sylvia scoffed. "You only started being interested in me when you thought I was involved with Grindelwald – and you didn't think twice about Newt until you realised how close he was with me." Leta may have been able to coerce everyone else with her words, but Sylvia wouldn't be so easily swayed.

"No, no!" Leta protested. "I just thought your family was like... mine."

 _Dark_ , Sylvia thought harshly.

"Definitely not." Sylvia spat.

"And I may have judged Newt a little prematurely..." Sylvia rolled her eyes. "Could we perhaps just..." Leta heaved a deep sigh. "Forgive each other? And move on?"

Sylvia thought this must have been some cruel joke. Leta had made Sylvia's life as uncomfortable as it could have possibly been for her at the time and now the witch was asking for her forgiveness? It was almost laughable. But whilst Leta was around, there wasn't a chance for Sylvia and Newt to ever become friends again. Sylvia full well knew the power that Leta currently held.

"No," Sylvia said finally. "I'm not like you, Leta. My mother didn't raise me to associate with people like you, no matter how good their intentions are. Leave me alone."

Sylvia went to walk away, her heart heavy and tired.

"That's it? I'm being nice and you-"

"It's not about how nice you are, for Merlin's sake!" Sylvia spat. "I saw you nearly kill a girl the first day we met – that's why I didn't..." Sylvia raised her fingers to make quotation marks. "' _accept_ ' you. Newt must be some kind of saint to see past that side of you. Either that or he hasn't seen it yet."

Leta scowled at Sylvia. "Newt doesn't care about that! He likes me for who I am."

"He likes you for who he sees," Sylvia said tiredly. Talking about Newt hurt more than she imagined. "But that's his business, I suppose."

Sylvia went to walk away again. The whole conversation was pointless.

"You're giving up on him, as well?" Leta barked as Sylvia began to disappear through the trees.

"I guess," Sylvia whispered. She stopped and looked at Leta one last time. "And if you ever hurt him, Leta – I'll do worse things to you than were in that silly little book you gave me last Christmas."

Leta's eyes narrowed into a challenge, but Sylvia simply turned away. If Newt was safe and content with Leta, who was Sylvia to change that?

And if anyone ever asked about the tears on her face, she would deny it to her dying breath.

* * *

 _(12_ _th_ _September, 6_ _th_ _Year)_

Sylvia examined the notice on the Gryffindor common room board closely. The holidays had been and gone and Sylvia's conversation with Leta in the forest now seemed like a bad dream. When Sylvia's mother had asked about her and Newt, Sylvia avoided the question like the plague. It didn't stop the pitiful look Hanna gave her for the rest of the six-weeks.

"Well? Going to give it a try?" Malvin asked.

Sylvia detested apparition with every fibre of her being, but could not fault that it would be a useful skill to have. Her mother would certainly approve, no doubt.

"I suppose it would be useful for an Auror." Sylvia thought out loud as she folded her arms across her chest.

Malvin glanced at her. A small silence passed between them.

"So... you really want to be an Auror? I thought you weren't sure."

"I wasn't..." Sylvia walked away from the small crowd gathering around the notice board and Malvin followed. "But I passed my O.W.L's so I can take the appropriate... exams."

"The N.E.W.T's?"

Sylvia didn't like calling them by their names, for very obvious reasons. "Yes – them."

She had passed her exams with almost flying colours, with a few obvious exceptions. Her potions exam she had passed through the skin of her teeth, but luckily the professor accepted 'exceeds expectations' for those wishing to take their N.E.W.T's with him. Sylvia wasn't completely sure what made her want to become an Auror more than anything else, it certainly wasn't her mother's influence, but deep in the back of her mind – she knew why.

"I think I'd like a cushy job somewhere..." Malvin said as they walked towards their first class.

"I hear the kitchens are accepting more house-elves."

"Ha, ha."

They winded through the corridors, sharing occasional jibes and discussing things that didn't really matter. Defense Against the Dark Arts was her first class on a Monday and she was very much looking forward to it.

"Wait, I think I have a stone in my shoe," Sylvia called as Malvin carried on walking. She slipped her foot out of her small heel and examined it for the offending rock. Putting her shoe back on, she looked back up and saw Malvin walking back towards her.

"I think we should walk the other way," Malvin said so quickly Sylvia barely understood what he said.

"What? My class is through that way, Malvin. I'm not taking some stupid detour so you can raid the kitchens again."

"Why not?" Malvin laughed nervously. "I do get awfully peckish in the morning!" His voice was almost comically high-pitched.

He grabbed Sylvia's arm and began to pull her backward.

"Wait- for goodness sake, Malvin!" Sylvia wrenched her arm free. "What is it?" She marched around the corner that her friend was trying so desperately to hide her from. Malvin sighed loudly and joined her.

"Oh."

Peaking around the corner, she saw what Malvin was trying to hide.

On a small bench sat Newt and Leta, chatting quietly about something, their faces so close together they could easily be mistaken for kissing. Sylvia felt her heart sink into her sock. She retreated her body back around the stone corner.

"Now I get it."

Malvin looked at her sadly.

"You know what? I think a detour through the kitchens would be great." Sylvia said, trying her hardest to sound perkier than she actually was.

Sylvia walked past him, hoping to hide the evident remorse on her features.

"Psst, look!" Malvin hissed.

"I really don't want to watch them, Malvin-"

"Just get your arse here!"

Sylvia walked back to where she just stood a second before. "What?"

Peering around the corner once again, and above Malvin's blonde head, she saw Newt looking very apprehensive about something. He was standing, seemingly alone if it weren't for him whispering quickly to someone. She presumed it was Leta out of her view.

"Leta may be an expert at hiding her emotions but Newt clearly isn't. Does he look very nervous to you?" Malvin whispered.

"Yes," Sylvia replied. Newt looked the picture of anxiety as he stared into a closet she couldn't see from her position. This was coming from the boy who had kept an illegal creature in his pocket for two years, whatever was making him anxious was clearly something to worry about.

Leta came into view then, her arms carrying a small jar. She looked very pleased, before kissing Newt on the cheek. Sylvia's heart cracked once again.

They watched quietly as Leta walked the opposite way, a confident sway in her steps. Newt stood idle for a moment, seemingly torn, before following her.

"Was that the potions cupboard?" Malvin asked loudly once the couple was clear out of ear-shot. "Yes," Sylvia said as they walked around the corner. They eyed the small wooden door curiously.

"I thought it was locked to students?"

"It normally is, but nothing a quick spell couldn't solve." She tried the door, and sure enough, it was locked tightly.

"I wonder what was in that jar?" Malvin looked at the corner Newt and Leta had not long turned around, obviously frightened they might walk back around and curse him. "She looked awfully chuffed about it."

"If it was in her hands, it can't be anything good."

* * *

 _(15_ _th_ _October, 6_ _th_ _Year)_

Thoughts of Leta and the strange jar still hung in the back of Sylvia's mind, even as she started to take her apparition lessons with a handful of other students in her year. Surprisingly, she found Newt there, after a brief and rather awkward moment of eye-contact. Sylvia looked away first and focused on the Ministry teacher at the front.

No-one walked away too badly damaged, aside from Malvin lost part of his right nostril, and for the first class of the year, it was deemed very much a success.

Walking out of the Great Hall with the crowd, Sylvia was surprised to feel a tap on her shoulder. Turning around quickly, she was saddened to see a chiselled looking boy with a wide smile and dark brown eyes. It very much wasn't Newt.

"Oh, hello, Carson." Sylvia greeted sullenly. The crowd around them began to thin out as students went their separate ways. She quickly looked for Malvin but couldn't see him anywhere.

"No need to seem so depressed, Sylvia." Carson chuckled before lowering his voice. "Did you get my note?" He smiled and stuffed his bucket-sized hands into his trouser pockets. She eyed his messy appearance with clear distaste.

Yes, was the answer - and she had promptly burned it as well. A rather shoddy poem about her 'vibrant red hair' and her 'moonlit, ivory skin'.

"No..." Sylvia drawled as she stared everywhere but the towering boy standing in front of her. "Must have gotten lost or... something..."

"No worries! I can always write another one." He shuffled his feet and a very awkward silence fell upon them. "You're... very good at apparition."

She knew that was a lie. Sylvia had accomplished nothing but tripping over her own legs.

"Thanks." She said simply. "So... are you." Another lie. She had spotted Carson and his friend fooling around for most of the lesson.

"I haven't seen you with that other lad, recently." Sylvia felt her breath hitch. "You two _have_ broken up, haven't you?" It took Sylvia every amount of her will power to not curse him where he stood. Instead, she took a small breath.

"No." She saw Carson's face drop. "We were never together." His face lightened up again. Her voice came across much more rational and confident than she really felt. "And I'm not looking for a relationship, either. I'm an independent witch." The confident tone was slowly slipping. "And I don't need anyone. At all. Not a man or a woman."

Carson thick brows raised in surprise. "O...kay."

"Especially not a thick idiot whose only interest in me is my... female attributes." She pointed a finger rudely at him.

"I wasn't-"

"Don't give me that!" Sylvia spat. "I bet you'll say that to the next witch who walks past here, too!"

Sylvia wasn't sure what she was doing. She knew she was being ridiculous, Carson was only being nice but the mention of her... _previous friend_ uncorked a whole bottle of emotions she wasn't aware she had been bottling.

"I also hate poems." She finished, her breath clearly uneven and her eyes looking a little wild.

"I-" Carson smacked his lips together. "Well, alright then." He avoided her eye contact as he shuffled away. "Bye, Sylvia."

"Bye," Sylvia mumbled, feeling like the biggest idiot she had ever come across – and she had come across a few.

"Merlin, what's a matter with me?" She whispered, watching Carson's defeated figure sulk away.

* * *

 _(20_ _th_ _October, 6_ _th_ _Year)_

"Well, he's a creep anyway." Malvin judged, stuffing another toffee into his mouth as he lay on his bed.

They sat in the Gryffindor boys dormitory, Sylvia sitting on his school trunk. It was too early to be busy, and most of the other Gryffindor boys had become accustomed to Sylvia's presence there anyway. After her debacle with Carson outside of the Great Hall, most boys in her year had started to avoid her like the plague.

"That's not the point, Malvin." Sylvia sighed as she stood up and paced the small space. "I just... couldn't control what I was saying. He just mentioned _his_ name and..."

Malvin threw another toffee into his already full mouth. "I think that's just called being a teenager, Sylv. Emotions and hormones flying everywhere."

Sylvia huffed and sat back on the trunk. She couldn't keep still. "I think I'm going mad."

"Yeah, I'd agree."

Sylvia shot him a tired look.

"I think the pressures of our N.E.W.T's and stuff is weighing on you too. Add that to boy trouble and you're bound to go a little stir-crazy." Malvin sat up. "I mean look at Bettie – with Gryffindor quidditch matches, her exams and a fight with a mother she had two weeks back, she's practically gone barmy. You're not alone."

"Great, so not only am I losing the plot, I can feel comforted knowing everyone else is too." Sylvia spat.

"Hey," Malvin raised his hands defensively. "Just trying to help."

"Sorry, Malvin." Sylvia sighed again. It was fast becoming her trademark. She stood up to leave. "I think I just need to clear my head."

Her friend mumbled a goodbye between a fistful of toffee as Sylvia went for the exit.

She stopped as her hand reached for the door.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a light in the window. She turned fully. "What's that?" Sylvia pointed.

Malvin tilted his head to stare out of the window she was pointing at.

"Probably the groundskeeper." He waved it off.

"At this time?" Sylvia walked towards the window and through the glass saw a small light in the distance. It was heading towards the Forbidden Forest. "Come here, Malvin, your eye-sights better than mine."

Malvin huffed in annoyance, before leaving his bed and joining Sylvia at the window. He pressed his wide-nose against the pane. "I don't-"

"There." Sylvia pointed out again. The light had stopped moving.

"That's a very faint light," Malvin observed. "Doesn't look like the groundkeeper's lantern."

The night was cloudy and the moon was obstructed. They could see very little apart from the small light.

"Hey, there's another one." Malvin poked a finger at the glass, a little further away from where Sylvia had pointed before. The new light that was also heading towards the forest seemed much brighter.

"Those look like the lights from the Lumos spell," Sylvia said.

They both stood in silence for a moment and quietly observed the second light draw nearer to the first.

"It's probably some kids fooling about," Malvin explained.

"At this time?" Sylvia repeated again.

"Why not?" Malvin defended. "Didn't you?"

Sylvia thought for a moment and nodded. She supposed it wasn't terribly unusual for two students to go investigating in the forest, no matter how many times Dippet had said it was dangerous. Children could be rather stupid. Then she remembered exactly who she had visited the forest with.

"That's Newt and Leta!" Sylvia squealed. It would explain the fainter light. Newt always had trouble with the Lumos spell, and she guessed Leta because, well, Newt rarely went anywhere without her.

"What?" Malvin pressed even closer to the glass and tried to see what Sylvia was talking about.

She explained quickly and Malvin looked at her oddly.

"Why would they be going to the forest?" He asked. A light bulb seemingly went off in his brain, and his experience as a gossip and conspirator clearly came in use. "Maybe it has something to do with that strange jar!"

They saw the two lights disappear into the forest.

"We should go after them." Sylvia quickly turned and ran towards the door.

"Sylvia, stop!" Malvin shouted.

Sylvia stopped in her tracks and frowned at him. "Come on, we'll lose them if we don't hurry up."

"Sylvia, for Merlin's sake, look at yourself!"

She couldn't understand what the problem was. "What?"

"Sure we can head in the forest, but what if they're up to nothing? They're teenagers, Sylv, what if they just snuck out to... you know..."

Sylvia felt a gag rising in her throat. She quickly swallowed it. "What if they're up to something, though? What if she gets him in danger, Malvin. You don't know her like I know her."

"Sylvia, do you know nothing about me?" Malvin walked over and patted her on the shoulder. "You've got to be smart about this."

She sighed heavily. Her legs were itching to follow the duo into the forest, but the small rational part of her brain was winning her over.

"What do you recommend, hm? We just wait and hope for the best?"

"Pfft, no." Malvin scoffed. "Sylvia, what am I insanely good at?"

Sylvia thought for a moment. "Sticking your nose in other people's business?"

Malvin blanched. "I was going to say collecting information... but okay."

"That's another term for it."

"We collect a little more information first. If what they're up to really is sinister than we can confront them – and by confront I mean you do that and I'll wait here."

Sylvia rolled her eyes at his poorly timed humour, but she couldn't help but agree it was a better plan than running in blindly.

"So... we wait and find out what they're up to," Sylvia confirmed.

Malvin walked back over to his bed and sat down. "Umhm," He agreed. "And then if there is something dark going on, we stop it."

Had Sylvia been thinking a little more clearly she would have known that telling a professor would have been perhaps a little wiser, but she was a Gryffindor. Gryffindor's valued bravery. The only problem was, bravery often went hand-in-hand with stupidity.

* * *

 _(3_ _rd_ _November, 6_ _th_ _Year)_

"You look positively ridiculous."

Malvin adjusted the spectacles on his nose. They were far too large for him, and his eyes were comically magnified as Sylvia tried to stifle her laugh.

"So? I read detective novels over the summer and most of them wear glasses. So when they get an epiphany, they do this," He pushed them up his nose and pretended to be deep in thought. "You want to be an Auror, get used to this."

Sylvia rolled her eyes as they made their way down to the dungeon. Night had already settled in, and after they were both sure everyone had settled into bed, they sneaked out of the dormitory.

At the time, Sylvia knew nothing of masking spells – so all they had were what sneaking skills they already had. Sylvia was a foot taller for her age and Malvin, with his excessive eating habits, had begun to grow to the width of a child's desk. If anyone with two eyes was to find them in the halls, it would be game over.

They tiptoed down the many steps to the dungeon, their steps seemingly ten times louder in the silence of the castle – and Malvin was a very heavy-footed boy.

"Merlin's beard, Malvin, are you stomping on purpose?" Sylvia hissed as they reached the bottom.

"Of course not, I'm just perhaps a little..."

"Overweight?" Sylvia peered around a corner and saw the corridor they were looking for deserted.

"I was going to say horizontally gifted, but sure. You're not exactly a light-footed ballerina, either." Malvin protested.

Quickly sprinting across the dungeon's floor, they stopped in front of the potions-pantry.

"And what exactly are we hoping to find?" Sylvia questioned as she withdrew her wand.

"I know the professor keeps a ledger of everything he keeps, no doubt Leta took what she wanted without permission – so whatever she took should be noted as missing. Now, open it!" He whispered, checking behind him.

Sylvia pointed her wand. " _Alohomora._ " She whispered.

The door unlocked without hesitation.

"You'd think your old professor would place some sort of charm on his pantry since students keep raiding it'."

"Let's not question it," Sylvia dismissed as she took point. "Quickly, Malvin."

He quickly dashed into the cupboard, almost knocking over a small stool.

"Quietly, as well!" Sylvia hissed. Malvin mumbled a small 'sorry' as he began searching for a ledger. A tense minute passed.

"Damn it." He cursed.

"What?"

"I can see it, it's just on the top shelf," Malvin said as he made a few feeble attempts to reach for it. "Come and grab it, Sylvia, put that unnatural height to good use."

Sylvia scoffed. "Are you an idiot? You're a wizard, Malvin, use the Accio charm."

"Oh, right." Malvin pulled out his small wand and pointed it at the book. " _Accio, ledger!_ "

The ledger flew towards him at a speed Malvin did not anticipate and sent him barrelling against the shelves behind him. Jars flew off it and crashed against the cobble floor with an almighty smash.

"Oh, no," Sylvia whispered. "Hurry, Malvin – find what Leta took!"

Malvin quickly opened the book and began flicking through the pages, his fingers fumbling with the pieces of paper. Sylvia's ears perked up like a greyhounds as she heard footsteps echoing off of the walls. It was a fair distance away, but they were making their way towards them – quickly.

"When was it?" Malvin called quickly. "It's sorted into dates!"

"Um..." Sylvia scrambled her mind quickly. "The 18th, I think? September."

Malvin flicked through the pages. "No, nothing! Are you sure?"

"Oh, my," Sylvia panicked as the footsteps were getting louder. There were also several voices. "The 12th?"

He flicked forward two more pages. "Yes! It says here that a jar of... puffer-fish eyes went missing, though the professor put a little side-note saying that he probably misplaced it."

"Is that it? Quickly, Malvin, we need to leave – now!" Sylvia began magically repairing the jars that had fallen on the floor.

"Wait, other things went missing too, and have been for the past two weeks!" Malvin licked his thumb and turned the page, apparently forgetting about the loud voices that were soon to turn the corner.

"Malvin!" Sylvia hissed as she placed the last jar on the shelf.

"Oh, yeah," Malvin snapped the book shut and threw it back on the top shelf with a jump.

Leaving the pantry, and closing it behind them, they hurried back to the Gryffindor dormitory without further talk.

Reaching the common room, they gasped for air. Malvin tore off his glasses and threw them on the ground with a huff.

"Detective...work... I can do... But... never ask... me... to run... again..." He gasped as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

Sylvia didn't fair much better as she collapsed into one of the chairs by the fire, it's small embers crackling as they gasped for air.

"What... now?" Sylvia heaved.

Malvin sank into one of the chairs next to her. "We see what potions use... puffer-fish eyes..."

"That could be any though!"

"I hadn't finished... there were other things missing too..." Malvin puffed. "I didn't see them all, but I saw bat spleens... and something else." He sat in thought for a second. "Damn it, I can't remember!"

"Keep your voice down!" Sylvia whispered between clenched teeth. Through their excitement, it was easy to forget that they were meant to be in bed, and it all it took was one inquisitive kid to walk in at the wrong moment. "At least that narrows it down a little."

"A swelling potion?" Malvin suggested out of the blue. He sat forward, his face expelling every clear emotion as he thought on it.

"What would they use a swelling potion for?" Sylvia questioned.

"I don't know, I just remembered making it in our second year."

"And what exactly would they use a swelling potion for in the Forbidden Forest?"

Malvin sucked on his bottom lip. "No idea, but it's a start, I guess." He clapped his hands together. "It's all very exciting though, isn't it?"

Sylvia rolled her eyes. "It brings us no closer to what they're doing though, does it?"

"I suppose not. I'll ask around a little tomorrow."

"Don't make it obvious, though, Malvin. We're meant to be sneaky, remember?"

"I, Ms. Sylvia, am the master of stealth!"

Sylvia didn't agree.

* * *

 _(7_ _th_ _January, 6_ _th_ _Year)_

There he stood.

Through the thick crowd of students making their way to their next lesson - he stood at the furthest end of the hallway.

They locked eyes, and for a minute Sylvia was grounded to where she stood.

As tough a front Sylvia put on, it was nothing at that moment. She wanted to walk over, grab his shoulders and shake him. Scream at him, perhaps? Ask him why he liked that girl so much, ask him if he was safe and what he was doing.

But she didn't.

They just stood there, at opposite ends of the hallways and... stared.

Newt had certainly grown more than she had remembered, and he had managed to comb his hair into some neater style than she had grown to know. His frame had filled out more too, he looked rather...manly, Sylvia thought.

He raised a hand feebly, it might have been a wave. Sylvia returned it, pathetically awkward.

And then _she_ came around the corner, smiling with her books hugged to her chest. She patted Newt on the shoulder and his attention was ripped away from his old friend and onto his new one.

Leta looked at Newt and said something before her gaze flicked to Sylvia. Sylvia felt her face harden. Leta didn't so much as blink, before placing a gentle arm around Newt. She lead him away.

And Sylvia just stood there, students hurrying past her as if she didn't exist.

"Sylvia?" Malvin said, clicking his fingers in front of her face.

Sylvia blinked and shook her head. "Mm?" _How long had he been standing there?_ She wondered.

"Great, now your back on planet earth, I have some new info. Follow me." He grabbed Sylvia's arm without further comment and lead her away. She was grateful for it, her mind didn't quite feel herself.

Entering the library, he told Sylvia to sit at a free table whilst he grabbed some books. Coming back with a pile taller than himself, he let them fall onto the table with a loud bang. The nearby librarian shot them a disapproving look over her small, square glasses.

"I've been asking around about our dark-haired wonder, but she mainly keeps to herself." He spaced the books out on the table. Sylvia viewed them oddly. They were mainly books of magical creatures. "But, she has been talking to a few teachers. Mainly, the Care of Magical Creatures professor. She's been very interested in some rather... beastly animals."

"And? I could have told you that. It's probably why Newt likes her so much." Sylvia absent-mindedly picked up a book in front of her. _'Beasts and Why They're Bad'._

"Yes, but Newt likes _all_ creatures. Leta's been asking about a specific few." He sat down across from Sylvia. "Very dangerous and illegal ones."

Sylvia narrowed her eyes. "How did you manage to find this all out?"

Malvin tapped the side of his nose and winked. Sylvia sighed.

"I think she's keeping one in the forest," Malvin said. Sylvia raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"And just how did she manage to get a..." She picked a random beast off of the page in front of her. "Acromantula into the forest? Asked Dippet nicely?" Sylvia said sarcastically.

"No... it'd have to be something smaller..." Malvin flicked through his own book for a moment, his lips pursed in thought.

Sylvia was seeing a thousand different flaws in Malvin's theory. _How_ did she smuggle it in? _Why_ would she smuggle it in? What does a _creature_ have to do with a _potion_?

"What would you do with one of these creatures anyway?" Sylvia asked.

Malvin shrugged. "They're all pretty nasty," He turned a page. "And capable of doing very nasty things, if you have the incentive." "I don't know, Malvin... this is a bit of a push." Sylvia sighed and shut her book. She wasn't in the mood for impossible theories, the more they researched the crazier the idea seemed. Sylvia knew Leta was, for lack of a better term, a bad egg, but even _Sylvia_ doubted that Leta would do something so... out-there.

"Thank you for the help, Malvin, but come find me when you have something solid," Sylvia said tiredly as she stood.

"Fine, but when I win a prize for my expert detective work, you're not getting an honourable mention!" Malvin called as Sylvia left the library.

At no point in time did Malvin know what danger he was getting himself into.

* * *

 _(10_ _th_ _February, 6_ _th_ _Year)_

"Quickly, Sylvia!" The small girl called. She was a first year, Sylvia vaguely noticed, but ran awfully fast for someone with such short legs.

Sylvia's heart hammered in her chest, and certainly not from the exertion from of running. It was her first real taste of fear.

"Is he okay?" Sylvia asked as the little girl sprinted down some stairs.

"I don't know, Dumbledore said to quickly run and grab you."

All she knew, was that Malvin had been poisoned – and it looked grave.

They dashed past corridor after corridor, the paintings on the walls looking down at them curiously. After what very much felt like a year of running and panting, they barrelled through the hospital wing doors. Upon entering, Sylvia's eyes settled on a group of teachers standing around a hospital bed. She recognised the screaming instantly.

"Ah, there you are, Sylvia." Dumbledore turned around when he heard the doors swing open. He looked as calm as ever. "Thank you, Lydia. Please wait outside a moment."

The smaller girl tried to peek at the commotion one last time before leaving.

"What... happened..." Sylvia said between panicked breaths.

"We were hoping to ask you that," Dumbledore said. Sylvia tried to look around his shoulders but found he blocked the way quite well. Even she wasn't a hundred percent sure she wanted to see. The howling still scarred her for weeks after.

The older wizard placed a hand on her shoulder and tried to lead her away from the bed. The screaming only seemed to increase, and two teachers tried to hold the body on the bed.

A little distance away, but still in the hospital wing, Dumbledore lowered his voice. "Malvin's in a very bad condition, Sylvia." He looked deep into Sylvia's eyes. "It's up to fate whether he lives tonight. The poison that is coursing through his body is unforgiving." He paused. "And very hard to obtain."

A wallowing scream bounced off the stone walls. Sylvia flinched and grimaced. The teachers shouted to each other in frantic tones as the nurse ran back and forth between her medicine cabinet and the bedside.

"He was poisoned?" Sylvia questioned, placing a hand over her heart in hopes that it might still it. It didn't.

"Yes, and by the evidence we have," He pulled a note out of the inside of his robes. "By you." He handed the small piece of parchment to Sylvia. "It was attached to a box of toffee's on Mallory's bed."

 _Malvin,_

 _Here's a little something for all the hard work you've been doing!_

 _Your Best Buddy,_

 _Sylvia_

It was very much her writing – it also had her exact signature at the bottom. The parchment even smelled like her perfume.

"I didn't-" Sylvia began to protest, feeling very hot around the collar.

"We don't suspect you, Sylvia," Dumbledore took the note out of Sylvia's clammy hands. "The particular brew that plagues your friend is near impossible to buy – and we certainly do not have it on these grounds." Dumbledore cleared his throat. "And, forgive me Sylvia, but your potions professor very much assures us that you... lack the skill to create such a concoction."

Sylvia felt half insulted, but half grateful. Apparently being his closest friend didn't count as an alibi, but her poor potion skills did.

"So... who did?"

"We were hoping you might shine some light on that for us." Another ear-piercing scream filled the room. "Is there anyone who might want to cause Mallory any harm?"

Sylvia knew who instantly. She had almost been in the exact same position at the end of the previous year, and it was no doubt Leta's penmanship that forged both Newt's handwriting and now hers. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at her silence.

But what evidence did she have? Sylvia chewed on her tongue anxiously. Would a hunch be valid evidence in court? At that moment in time, as Sylvia's eyes filled with tears at the thought of losing her friend, a lifetime in Azkaban didn't seem punishment enough. No-one could have told her otherwise at the time. Not even Dumbledore.

"I..." Sylvia slammed her mouth shut. Dumbledore looked at her intensely.

"Even if it's just a... idea, Sylvia. Anything we could use to find who did this to your friend."

"I...um..." Sylvia pretended to think. "I don't know... professor. Malvin could be," She coughed into her fist. "Rather nosy... I'm sure there are a lot of people who would want Malvin to shut up."

"Hm," Dumbledore cast her one last deep look. "Very well. You should return to your dormitory, Sylvia. The final stages of this potion are not... kind."

"Where was Malvin before he ate the toffee's?" Sylvia asked suddenly before Dumbledore could turn around.

Dumbledore stopped and reviewed her carefully. "He had been caught by the groundskeeper by the Forbidden Forest." A pause. "I thought it rather curious. Why?"

"Oh, I..." Sylvia realised she sounded very much suspicious. "I thought Malvin might have picked something up from the forest... he's always been rather... curious..."

Dumbledore nodded but did not seem at all convinced. "I see. No, this was very much a poison – not a herb."

He had just told her a second ago that Malvin had been poisoned by a potion. Sylvia mentally scolded herself for being so stupid. Lying was not her strong point.

"You should get some rest, Sylvia. I'll send word to you on Mallory's condition in the morning."

"But-"

"I'll have another student escort you," Dumbledore said, and he did not have the appearance of a man who could be persuaded otherwise. He turned his back on Sylvia with a final warning. "Stay in your dormitory, Sylvia. _Do not_ seek this person yourself."

Sure enough, Lydia came running back into the room and waved at Sylvia for her to join her. Sylvia did so reluctantly, tears welling in her eyes.

"I'm sorry about Malvin, Sylvia." Lydia began, her high-pitched voice filling the silence of the corridor. The sounds of screaming began to dissipate the further they walked.

"So am I," Sylvia said quietly as she made a final decision – the most foolish of them all. "But you know who I feel sorrier for, Lydia?"

Lydia frowned. "Who?"

"The person who did this to him." Sylvia felt her face contort in distaste. "Especially what they're about to go through." Sylvia seethed, anger rising in her stomach. The girl looked at Sylvia questioningly.

"I don't-"

" _Petrificus Totalus."_

The small girl froze instantly and fell to the floor like a marble statue before she was aware of anything.

"Sorry, Lydia, you'll understand one day."

Sylvia stepped over her body and gripped her wand firmly.

She was going to find out what Leta was hiding in the Forbidden Forest – and she was going to find out tonight. Sylvia had enough of skirting around her biggest problem. Leta was going to pay for turning Newt against her, she was going to pay for poisoning Malvin and she was going to pay just for her very existence. And if Leta tried to stop her?

Sylvia sneered. "Then poor Leta."

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the slight delay. If anyone's wondering - I do try to update this about every 4 days, but it's not always possible. Thanks for waiting though! Also if you're worried I might suddenly drop this and stop writing, fear not! I actually write a few chapters in front and go back to edit and publish the previous ones, so, where I'm at at the moment - I've actually nearly finished the entire story. (If that makes any sense). But thank you for the reviews so far!


	7. Chapter 7

In what seemed like a blink, Sylvia was standing in front of the forest's edge.

Her wand was clasped firmly in her palm. She could feel a powerful energy surging through her core. She briefly wondered if that's what her mother used to feel before catching a dark wizard. Sylvia had never felt more nervous and yet never more confident in all of her life. Tonight was the night.

Sylvia wasted no time in breaching the forest line, she knew it wouldn't be long before someone found Lydia's frozen body and then the manhunt would begin.

She had to know. She had to know what was worth almost killing Malvin over, and she wouldn't wait for some poor investigation only to find that Leta had once again managed to slither her way out of it.

It was dark. The air felt heavy as if the forest had held its breath. There wasn't a sound.

Truth be told, Sylvia wasn't exactly sure what to look for – or even where to begin looking. But she didn't have to wait long before _it_ found _her_.

A fair distance into the forest, Sylvia felt tremours beneath her feet – as if machinery was in operation below the earth's surface. The tree's trembled and the few shrubs that dotted the landscape quivered. Another sound joined the fray. Footsteps – and they were running towards her fast. Her breath grew ragged.

Sylvia pointed her wand in the direction the footsteps were coming, behind a thick growth of a bush between trees and steadied her breath. She mentally prepared a spell.

The figure burst through the bush in a blink, panting madly and sobbing. Whatever spell that was on Sylvia's tongue died. It was Leta alright, but even through Sylvia's anger, her appearance made her pause.

Leta's uniform was torn and bloodied, her hair that was usually so neat and combed was wild and bushy. Tears stained her muddied face. She had lost a shoe.

"Sylvia?" Leta whispered, her entire body trembling.

Sylvia couldn't respond, Leta looked so... afraid. Terrified, even.

"Sylvia, you need to run – _now_!" Leta barked when Sylvia wouldn't respond.

The tremors grew deeper and closer. Sylvia suddenly realised that whatever was making them wasn't coming from beneath her.

Something growled and spat loudly. The trees shook. It sounded pained but very much angry.

"What was that?" Sylvia gasped as they both retreated backward – Leta noticeably hiding behind Sylvia.

Leta sobbed heavily behind her. "I didn't mean..." She heaved a breath. "It went wrong, Sylvia."

Sylvia glanced behind her, though her wand was still trained on the bush. And whatever was about to come through it.

"What went wrong, Leta?" Leta bawled something unintelligible. _"What did you do?!"_ Sylvia shouted.

"It's all my fault..." Leta quivered as she dropped to her knees.

The thing didn't come through the bush. It stepped over it.

"Merlin's beard..." Sylvia gasped.

It was a Jarvey, or what was meant to be one. Apart from the small fact that it was ten times bigger than a Jarvey was meant to be. It looked mutated, its eyes almost bulging from its sockets and its teeth were overgrown to the point where they didn't sit in its mouth properly. Its fur was patchy and distorted, bits of flesh showing across its body. Whatever spell or potion Leta used to enlarge it, evidently didn't work fully.

The creature eyed Sylvia and Leta, a loud rumbling sound emitting from it as it sniffed the air. Sylvia's arm lowered slowly. Somehow all of the spells she had learned in the past didn't seem adequate. She had prepared for a showdown between her and another witch – not a terribly overgrown ferret with teeth longer than her arm.

Sylvia knew a Jarvey at its usual size was dangerous – a Jarvey the size of a double-decker bus was something else. Dangerous wouldn't cover it.

Leta grasped Sylvia's arm weakly. "Sylvia..." She whispered. "Sylvia..." Sylvia was too stunned to respond.

The Jarvey progressed on them slowly, it seemed more curious than angry now. It wasn't until it grew nearer that Sylvia got a good view of its eyes.

The growing process must have damaged its eyes even worse than the bulging because it looked like an animal with serious cataracts. It must have been partially blind - and it was relying on its sense of smell.

"Be prepared to run." Sylvia mouthed, as she picked Leta up slowly off of the floor. Leta clung to Sylvia's arm desperately.

Sylvia hadn't quite grasped how to do none verbal magic yet, but she thought there was no better time to learn than then. Pointing at a tree some distance to their left, Sylvia cleared her head of every worrying thought and focused. Leta shuddered.

 _Bombarda maxima._

The tree exploded – and so did two neighbouring trees. This drew the Jarvey's attention without a doubt, it's head snapped to the sound.

Sylvia didn't waste a second and dragging Leta with her, they began to sprint the way Sylvia had originally come.

"I'm so sorry, Sylvia!" Leta shouted as they dashed through the forest, leaping over roots and trying their hardest not to slip. The creature had evidently not been fooled for long. It sounded close behind.

"Save it!" Sylvia shouted back.

Sylvia lead the way, but she wasn't a hundred percent sure exactly which way they were heading. Hearing the beast stomp after them though, she very much decided it didn't matter. Anywhere it couldn't follow was the goal.

"Ah!" Leta squealed.

Sylvia glanced behind her, her heart in her throat, and saw Leta trip over a root and fall to the ground.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake." Sylvia stopped.

The creature was quickly approaching.

Sylvia ran towards the witch and went to pick her up. Leta screamed in pain.

"I think I've twisted my ankle!" Leta groaned as she collapsed again.

"Oh, you insufferable girl!" Sylvia cursed. The beast wasn't far behind them. "Keep quiet." She hushed as she dragged the smaller girl against a tree.

The creature came bounding over in a few seconds, the size of it crossing the distance between them easily. The Jarvey stalled a few metres from their position and sniffed.

Sylvia felt Leta grab her wand. Sylvia turned to her and shook her head vigorously. – whatever spell Leta was thinking of wouldn't work on a beast that size, she knew for sure. Leta ignored her and pointed towards the beast.

A strange, small cloud emitted from her wand, drifting towards the Jarvey's nose. The beast sniffed once, then again. Whatever the smell was, was evidently pleasing. The small, green cloud floated for a little while before Leta waved her wand. The cloud drifted behind the Jarvey, and the Jarvey followed it.

Sylvia couldn't help but admire the genius of it.

The Jarvey followed the spell until it was almost out of sight. Leta lowered her wand with a sigh.

"That was... smart." Sylvia complimented. "Can you walk?"

"Slowly, perhaps." Clinging to Sylvia's shoulder, they stood up. "I'm sorry for everything..." Leta said so quietly she might as well not have said it at all.

"For poisoning Malvin?" Sylvia hissed. She had definitely not forgotten the reason she had come to the forest in the first place.

"I... didn't mean to hospitalize him. He was getting too close and-"

"You thought poisoning him was the appropriate course of action?"

Leta sighed. "I have my reasons, Sylvia. Let us get out of here and I'll tell you everything."

Sylvia thought she should stun Leta and leave her to the Jarvey, but as angry as she was – she couldn't see herself doing it. When they were out of immediate danger, _then_ Sylvia would deal with Leta appropriately.

"Fine. Put your arm around my shoulder." Leta did so without question and sighed with relief when the pressure was taken off of her foot.

"Thank you," Leta mumbled. Sylvia glanced at her. "You didn't have to help me... you could have left me – Merlin knows I probably deserve it. But you didn't."

"I certainly thought about it," Sylvia said as they ambled through the trees. "But I imagined Newt wouldn't be too pleased about it."

"Newt!" Leta gasped.

"What?"

"I told him to meet me here tonight – he doesn't know I enlarged the Jarvey without him!" Leta stopped walking, forcing Sylvia to too.

"Newt was okay with this?" Sylvia said incredulously. She couldn't envision Newt doing this, the Jarvey – as scary as it was – looked in a terrible amount of pain. Surely Newt wouldn't be okay with that, Sylvia thought.

"Not exactly..." Leta mumbled as she looked away from Sylvia's gaze. Sylvia had a distinct feeling Leta was missing a crucial detail out of her story. "But we need to make sure he doesn't run into this."

"First, we make our own way out," Sylvia said. "We can't help Newt inside the Jarvey's stomach."

They walked for a few minutes in silence. Leta jolted at every small crunch or crack – and hissed in pain afterward. Sylvia began to grow tired of it quite quickly. The extra weight on her side was tiring Sylvia out and the idea of leaving Leta behind played in her mind again.

The Jarvey roared. It sounded a little ways off.

"Has it found us?!" Leta gasped.

"No, it sounded further away." Sylvia listened closely. "Did the spell wear off?"

"It shouldn't have," Leta replied. "Unless it smelt something stronger."

They looked at each other and came to the same conclusion. Newt.

Leta quickly detached herself from Sylvia and began to run.

"Oh, so you can run now?!" Sylvia barked.

"Newt's in danger – come on!"

Sylvia didn't need telling twice. She sprinted and caught up with Leta in a flash.

Following the sounds of roaring and grumbling, they navigated the density of the forest and came upon another small clearing.

"New-" Sylvia quickly slapped a hand around the other witches mouth. Leta struggled until Sylvia hissed in her ear. "He's calming the beast, you idiot. _Shut up!"_

The two witches watched the scene carefully. Newt was crouched low and making strange keening noises. The Jarvey tilted its head curiously and was making even stranger noises in return. It was a strange spectacle to watch, but calm as Newt was appearing, Sylvia could see the trembling in his hands.

Newt glanced towards Sylvia and Leta, and looked put off at seeing the two together. He stopped the strange noises.

The pause in chattering was enough for the Jarvey to regain its composure, and figure out that whatever was in front of it certainly wasn't another Jarvey. It growled and raised a claw.

"No!" Sylvia screamed before she could stop herself.

The Jarvey instantly whipped its head in Sylvia's direction. She felt her heart plummet to her feet.

The beast started on her faster than Sylvia could withdraw her wand. Before Sylvia could so much as blink – Sylvia felt her body crash against bark. She fell to the floor with a loud thud.

"Sylvia!" Newt shouted.

And like that, every plan anyone one of the three could have come up with went to pot. Leta tried stunning the Jarvey – but it was far too big for one spell to knock it unconscious. She made a gesture to Newt, and he ran over to Sylvia as Leta distracted the creature.

Sylvia's head swam after the impact. Momentarily paralysed, she could just about make out the shape of Newt's worried face in front of her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered that she couldn't feel her legs.

"Sylvia?" He called as he held her face. " _Sylvia_?"

She felt a burning feeling in her side and looked down. Her blouse was sodden with blood. The Jarvey's claw must have pierced her skin as it punted her.

"Oh, dear," Sylvia mumbled, as Newt followed her eyesight.

His eyes widened and his breath hitched. Reaching out, he gingerly pressed his hands to Sylvia's side in a poor attempt at stemming the flow.

"Now can we tell a teacher?" Sylvia drawled, feeling her face pale.

Newt laughed nervously as he tried applying different amounts of pressure to her wound. "Certainly. Definitely. Just... stay awake, please. If anything ever happened to you-"

Leta shouted in the background. Sylvia couldn't quite make out what it was, but it sounded like a warning.

As proficient of a witch that Leta was, even she couldn't distract the Jarvey much longer. But she didn't need to – because the Jarvey had smelt something much more appetising.

It turned it's body towards Sylvia once again and sniffed the air.

"It can smell your blood," Newt said quickly as he desperately thought of a plan.

"Could... three of us... would we... be able to stun it?" Sylvia said slowly, her thoughts becoming much harder to process as blood drained out of her body.

"I don't know," Newt mumbled. The Jarvey progressed slowly, it's nose in the air. "At it's smallest size – definitely. But it might be too big and you're not exactly in a good enough condition to-"

Sylvia fumbled for her wand next to her. Her fingers weren't following her commands properly. She grasped it as tightly as she could. The Jarvey was getting closer.

"Newt... the idea of being eaten doesn't sit well with me," Sylvia said seriously. "Just try it."

Newt looked at Sylvia worriedly but reached for his wand all the same.

Leta looked at the two oddly for a moment, until she saw them withdraw their wands and face the Jarvey. She cottoned on quickly.

"On three -" Leta shouted. The Jarvey paid her no attention.

Newt helped Sylvia up. She could stand, but could barely feel the ground beneath her. Sylvia inhaled deeply and willed her body to stop swaying. It didn't.

"One -" Leta started her countdown. "Two -"

Newt and Sylvia pointed their wands. The Jarvey was within swiping distance. Newt held Sylvia's free hand tightly.

"Three!"

" _Stupify_." The three shouted in unison.

The forest lit up in a bright shade of blue for an instant. The beast collapsed.

So did Sylvia.

* * *

She felt weightless.

Every feeling, every thought and every breath seemed so... far away. Her body felt numb – apart from a small pressure around her arm and legs.

" _Is she dead?"_

It sounded like Leta's voice, but if she called out on top of a mountain. The words echoed in Sylvia's mind. She vaguely felt the wind on her cheek.

" _She needs attention – now!"_

Funny, Sylvia thought, that sounds like Newt. Apart from she had never heard him sound so... authoritative. Commanding, even. He seemed very worried about something.

She wondered what all the panic was about.

* * *

" _Is that a student?!"_ She heard another voice call. It sounded older.

Sylvia definitely felt more of a breeze now, but the voices were beginning to sound further away.

" _Scamander! Lestrange! Explain yourselves!"_

There was a lot of shouting now – from several voices. She recognized Leta and Newts, Dippet and Dumbledores and her Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

" _Phineas, she needs the hospital wing immediately."_ That was Dumbledore's. Sylvia wondered why he never sounded panicked. She felt a prodding sensation on her wound.

" _A what?! In the forest!"_ Screaming. It hurt Sylvia's head. She wished they would all shut up and let her sleep.

Sylvia felt a different pressure on her body now. It was stronger, firmer. _Am I being carried?_ Sylvia thought.

More air began to whip around her cheeks. She was floating quicker now.

" _It's all my fault, Headmaster."_ Newt?

Sylvia wanted to know what exactly _was_ Newt's fault, but the voices edged further and further away until there was silence.

* * *

Sylvia felt grounded now. Something soft beneath her.

" _Will she live?"_

 _He sounded grave._

" _I'm not sure."_

 _That's not really a comforting answer. Were they talking about me?_

" _She's lost a lot of blood. She might need to be transferred."_

 _I hope not. I'm quite comfortable where I am, thank you._

" _The Jarvey has been captured and we're working on a deflating draught now. The Minister is on his way."_

 _The Jarvey?_

Memories began to flash inside Sylvia's mind, but they were patchy and incomplete. It was like trying to listen to a gramophone that kept skipping. Sylvia tried focusing.

" _Have they found out who did it?" Was that the nurse?_

 _"I think that's currently a matter for much debate. Newton swears it's him, but I could never picture the lad doing anything like that." That was definitely her Care of Magical Creatures professor._

" _Do you think he's covering for the Lestrange girl?" Nurse again._

" _Most likely. Though Phineas would prefer this wrapped up as quickly as possible." Dumbledore. Always so calm. "Even if an innocent boy is expelled."_

Expelled.

Sylvia's mind screamed. Little parts of her memories were starting to piece together. A Jarvey. Leta. Newt. Flying.

She wanted to sit up and shout, tell everyone it wasn't him. Scream at Dippet and tell Dumbledore the truth. She felt trapped in her own body.

She didn't want Newt expelled.

* * *

 _(19th February, 6th Year)_

The next few days were spent dipping in and out of consciousness. Sylvia awoke a few times to various faces peering over her bed, predominantly the nurse and a few times she recognised her mother and father. Her body still felt fairly numb, but she stayed awake a little longer each time she regained her senses, until one day she woke fully. She wasn't aware of how much time had passed.

"Oh, hello you." Malvin smiled.

Sylvia squinted her eyes against the brightness of the hospital room. "What?"

Malvin looked considerably older, paler and shockingly thinner than she had ever known him. Just how long was she out for, she thought.

"I know, I know, you can tell me how rugged and handsome I look – I don't mind." He swept some imaginary hair over his shoulder. Sylvia was too confused to laugh.

"How long?" She croaked.

"Have you been out for?" Malvin's eyes darted around the room quickly. "A little while."

"How long is a little while, Malvin," Sylvia said gravely. She had to tell Dumbledore everything she knew.

Malvin cleared her throat. "About a week. A little more."

Sylvia went to sweep the blankets off of her, but Malvin yelped and quickly stopped her.

"Merlin's breath, Sylvia, you've been unconscious for a week and you expect to go running about the castle?" He gently pushed her down but Sylvia groaned.

"At least let me sit up then." Malvin did so, and with a little grunting, they manage to prop Sylvia in the upright position. "I need to speak to Dumbledore as soon as possible. Or Dippet – anyone."

Malvin acted as if he didn't hear her. "The nurse didn't expect you to be up for a few more hours yet, she just popped out. Dippet didn't expect you to get up at all." Malvin said as he popped some grapes into his mouth. Sylvia looked at the small collection of gifts on her bedside table.

Sylvia sighed at the small talk. "Come on you insatiable gossip," She took a deep breath. "What happened?"

Malvin stopped chewing. "You're sure you want-"

"Yes, I'm bloody well sure. Is Newt okay?" Sylvia said hurriedly.

"In... a sense, yes," Malvin said slowly. He wasn't the type to pick his words carefully. Sylvia narrowed her eyes.

"What do you mean, 'in a sense'? Is he okay or not? Did they stop the Jarvey?"

" _So it was true!"_ Malvin squealed. "The professors just said you, Leta and Newt got hurt fooling around in the Forbidden Forest. I knew it!"

"They tried to cover it up?"

"Oh yeah," Another grape disappeared into the mushy depths. "Makes sense, though, doesn't it? Don't want parents thinking that such dangerous creatures can get into Hogwarts easily – wouldn't make old Dippet look too good. There's been a huge cover up. The Minister was here and everything."

Sylvia nodded, hoping her friend would hurry up and get to the part where Newt was involved. She found she wasn't really bothered what happened to Leta. Malvin continued on in vague detail, since he was on death's door for most of it too, saying how the students were kept to their dormitories for a day. They never found out who poisoned him, though they didn't think the two incidents were connected. Both Malvin and Sylvia knew differently.

"From what I heard, they took away the Jarvey and the whole area was swept. Anything involving it – _poof_." Sylvia's supply of grapes was slowly diminishing. "Then began the questioning."

"Are they going to question me?" Sylvia asked.

"Well, probably not."

"Why?"

"Because..." Malvin sighed and looked out the window. "It's all done now. Case... closed – so to speak."

Sylvia's breath stopped in her throat. "Did they expel Leta?"

"Leta?" Malvin coughed into his fist. "No... she's still here."

 _Oh, no,_ Sylvia thought. She felt her heart tear in two. Her emotion must have been clear on her face because Malvin held her hand.

"I'm so sorry, Sylvia." He whispered. "He took credit for everything. Said he thought he could look after Jarvey, and you and Leta just got caught in the middle."

Sylvia swallowed a sob and looked away from Malvin.

"Dumbledore tried to defend him... but there's little you can say when someone openly confesses to something..." Malvin squeezed Sylvia's hand gently. "He was expelled the day after. It was because of Dumbledore's word that he didn't end up with a more severe punishment. Dippet was livid."

Sylvia felt frozen. "How like him." She mumbled quietly.

"I'm sure Dumbledore will want to speak to you at some point, though, he wasn't exactly happy with you either."

She understood. Had she just told Dumbledore the truth, then perhaps everything could have been avoided. Newt would still be there and Leta would be the one to be expelled. There was also the small matter of freezing another student, breaking the curfew and trespassing into the Forbidden Forest. Sylvia was partly surprised she wasn't expelled too.

She let out a shaky breath. "Had I just told him... Dumbledore... I'm an idiot. I thought I could handle it on my own."

"I've got to admit, it sounded very... rogue." Malvin chuckled. Sylvia wasn't paying attention, she was far, far too deep in her own well of self-pity and hatred.

The sound of the tall, hospital doors opening drew the two's attention away from sad matters. It wasn't who Sylvia would expect in the slightest.

Leta stood awkwardly in the entrance, her hands stiffly by her sides. She didn't look any better than Malvin, either. It was like someone had squished her, she seemed smaller somehow. Less sure.

"You've got a bloody nerve coming here, miss!" Malvin stood up immediately, shaking his fist like an angry old man.

"Leave it, Malvin," Sylvia said quietly.

"What?" Malvin said, eyeing Sylvia as if they had never met. "Are you having a laugh? She's the reason all of this happened! The reason you nearly died, the reason I nearly died, the reason Newt-"

"I know!" Sylvia barked. Malvin clamped his mouth shut. "Just... leave us a second, Malvin."

Malvin shook his head. "Fine. But don't blame me if she tries to finish the job while I'm gone!"

Malvin walked past Leta and shot her a dirty look, and to Sylvia's surprise – she actually flinched.

Silence descended for a moment as the two merely stared at one another.

"Come here for a reason? Or just to gloat." Sylvia said harshly.

"No, no." Leta squeaked. Her voice didn't even sound the same. Sylvia cursed herself for feeling pity.

Leta quietly walked over, her heels barely making a sound against the stone floor. "May I?" She pointed to the chair Malvin was previously sitting in. Sylvia nodded.

Leta sat down slowly, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She looked the picture of anxiety. "I... don't know where to begin."

Sylvia eyed her. "I find the start is the best place."

"I take it you know everything," Leta whispered, not looking Sylvia in the eye.

"Imagine I don't." There was a bitter taste in Sylvia's mouth. "Start there."

"This... wasn't the first time Newt took the blame for me, you know?" Sylvia didn't have to stretch her imagination far to envision that. "He always covered for me when I messed up."

"Often, was it?" Sylvia snapped. She was surprised at herself for how calm she felt.

"You're not making this very easy."

Sylvia went to shout, but Leta squeezed in an apology first.

"I know, I've made a terrible mistake, but Newt-"

"Did you confess? Hm?"

Leta looked at Sylvia wide-eyed.

"Did you?" Sylvia continued. "You can't sit there and whine about how unfair this situation is when you have," Sylvia stopped. " _Had_ , the power to change it, Leta. You must forgive me if I don't feel sorry for you."

Silence descended on them again as Leta played with her fingers.

"I know." She whispered. "I think... Dumbledore knew it was me. He gave me a chance to rectify everything but I... froze. I imagined my mother's face if I got caught and..." Leta absent-mindedly rubbed a small scar on her neck. A pale stripe of white against ebony skin. Somehow, Sylvia gathered what Leta was trying to say. There was a lot she didn't know about her, but that small scar told a whole different story.

"I..." Leta trailed off as she let her hands fall into her lap again. "Oh my, you must hate me." Leta's eyes filled with unspilt tears.

"Not entirely." Sylvia said before she could stop herself.

She knew Leta deserved every insult and mocking Sylvia could think of, but looking at the small girl in front her... Sylvia knew she had already given herself worse. Even though it was mostly Leta's fault, Leta did lose the most.

"Simply put, if you did die, the chances of me attending your funeral are quite slim."

For some odd reason, Leta chuckled. "I don't think you'd be the only one."

Sylvia felt like screaming at her, somewhere deep inside. She was the reason everything had happened the way it did but... Sylvia couldn't bring herself to do it. Even years later, Sylvia was never sure if the whole 'I feel so sorry for myself and my actions' act from Leta was a facade or something genuine.

"Why did you do it?" Sylvia asked after a moment's silence. "The Jarvey."

Leta sighed. "I was conducting an experiment." She fiddled with her fingers again. "Tensions are rising in our world and I thought... Jarveys are dangerous anyway – but I thought if we modified them and grew them, then they could be weaponized." Sylvia's eyes widened in shock. She had expected something sinister, but trying to weaponize a creature seemed out there even for Leta.

"It wasn't strictly my idea..." She rubbed the scar again. Sylvia glanced at it as another silence fell.

The class bell rung loudly, echoing against the walls. Leta went to stand.

"Wait," Sylvia said. Leta stopped standing and sat back down. There was one last thing Sylvia wanted. Needed.

"Is there-"

Sylvia left fist connected with Leta's mouth quicker than anything she could have conjured.

Leta shouted as she fell off the chair with the impact, clutching her mouth and groaning. Sylvia howled with pain also, as she had to reach over to make the jab, and her side didn't appreciate it.

It was a long time coming.

Leta got to her feet slowly. Her top lip looked like it was already swelling. Tears spilled onto her cheek as she glanced at Sylvia.

"I can forgive, Leta." Sylvia calmed her shaky breath. "But I won't ever forget." She felt little satisfaction.

"I-I should... go," Leta mumbled, as she tried to control her sobs. A pang of guilt settled in Sylvia's stomach. She ignored it.

Before Leta reached the door, her hand still covering her lip, she turned around slowly. "He visited you, you know. Before he left." A pause as Leta wiped a tear from her cheek. "I think out of everything he lost... he was most saddened by losing you." She quickly left without another word.

Surprisingly, out of everything Leta could have said at that moment, that hurt the most.

Sylvia let her own tears spill freely.

* * *

 _(2nd May, 6th Year)_

 _Sylvia,_

 _I don't know when you'll get this, or even if you'll get this at all – but I've got to make this quick. A carriage is coming to pick me up in a moment._

 _I never hated you, Sylvia. Malvin told me if you're wondering how I knew. We had a good chat, he's awfully talkative. I may have judged a little too quickly, though, I will admit. I'm sorry for my part in all of this. I'm sorry you got hurt._

 _I missed you_ 'You' was poorly scribbled out. _our talks. Pickett missed you as well._

 _There's so much I want to say, but I don't have enough time._

 _Don't worry about me. Dumbledore arranged a position for me at the Ministry, and then I think I might travel for a while. Mom encouraged it._

 _She also named one of Polly's young after you, I don't know if I ever told you that._

 _I hope one day we can meet again when all of this has cleared up._

 _Newt._

 _P.S Look after Leta for me, she's not who you think she is._

Signed once again, Sylvia noticed. She smiled to herself, alone, in the Gryffindor dormitory.

It had been a couple of weeks since the incident, and Sylvia had made a full recovery. The excitement had slowly quietened down, and she was back to being a regular student. No-one had told her Newt had left a note, she wasn't sure anyone really knew, it was only when she looked inside of her old jewellery box one day that she noticed it scrunched up inside.

In her heart, she wished she could have said goodbye to him, but her life wasn't a fairytale and she understood it could sometimes be unfair. She still looked up at the old, abandoned tower sometimes and wondered how Pickett was doing, or came across a picture of a Hippogriff and thought of Polly. Sylvia never realised how much Newt had affected her life until he was completely out of it.

She saw Leta in the corridors occasionally. Leta kept her distance, and Sylvia kept herself civil. They would never be friends. It was the one thing Sylvia couldn't do for Newt.

Leta did seem more alone than ever, though. Everyone had their suspicions about her and the Jarvey, and not even the Slytherin's paid her much attention. Sylvia's heart ached for her sometimes, but she couldn't help but think that she had brought this on herself.

"You coming, Sylvia?" Malvin shouted up from the common room. It still surprised her how deep his voice had gotten. The years had flown by so quickly.

"In a moment!" Sylvia shouted back. They were going to Hogsmeade, Sylvia had almost forgotten.

She rolled the piece of parchment back up carefully and tucked it back in her jewellery box. Standing up, she walked over to the window and looked out. It was a beautiful day, she observed. Newt's Hippogriff's would love it. Sylvia placed a hand against the warm window.

"Stay safe, Newt."


	8. Chapter 8

_(July 1_ _st_ _, 7_ _th_ _Year)_

Graduation day was a night away.

Sylvia's time in Hogwarts had finally come to an end, as did a rather... _memorable_ chapter in her life.

She looked around at the Gryffindor common room, alight with fervour and celebration – and smiled. A gramophone blared in the background with early swing music and the seventh year students who were brave enough danced along to its rhythm. Red banners had been magically placed around the room and a small buffet had been 'conjured'. One student had attempted to smuggle Fire-Whiskey into the party but was promptly caught by a professor, so they settled for pumpkin juice and punch instead.

Halfway through the night, Sylvia noticed something new. Even after all of her years of knowing Malvin, and they felt like very long years indeed, she had never noticed that he had a greater passion for something other than vol-au-vents and toffee apples. Dance.

She was quite happy enough to see him dancing, and rather well, with the other girls (and one boy who went red in the face), until he turned to her.

"Come on, Sylvia!" He meandered over and extended a hand, his cheeks aflame with exertion.

"Definitely not!" Sylvia laughed. Her mother had taught her to dance, sure enough. It was expected of a woman. But her legs when dancing reminded her too much of a baby deer on ice.

Malvin grabbed her hand and began to pull her towards the middle of the common room, where the chairs and coffee tables had been pushed to the sides.

"Malvin, I will curse you where you stand!" Sylvia warned, but the large grin on her face said something else entirely.

"I'm sorry, my dear," Malvin said, with an obnoxiously posh accent. "But you've already bewitched me!"

"Ugh," Sylvia gagged as he put his hand politely on her waist.

They swayed and turned to the rhythm, and Malvin didn't seem put off by their obvious difference in height – though it was Sylvia who had to spin _him_ around. Sylvia forgot all of her anxieties, as they giggled and laughed louder than she could ever remember doing previously.

When the song changed to a much slower, rather romantic beat, Malvin and Sylvia eyed each other awkwardly before laughing. Without prompting, they switched their roles, Sylvia assuming the position of a man and Malvin a woman. He was surprisingly good at it, as the crowd they had gathered cheered and jeered around them.

The celebration continued on well into the night until a Gryffindor professor came in to send them all to bed. Seventh-year students they might be, they were still in Hogwarts and under their rules – so they broke up the party and returned to their respective dormitories.

Sylvia stood by her bed, sadly for the last time, and started to unbutton her blouse. Too busy thinking about Malvin tripping over a coffee table and spilling punch down himself, she forgot what lay beneath. Her fingers bumped into the raised scar that stretched over her abdomen and across her side – and for a minute she felt like she had jumped into the icy waters of the Black lake. Recovering her breath, for it had escaped her body without her noticing, she slowly turned towards the mirror that sat on her bedside table.

There it lay. A grim reminder of her brush with death – and the loss of her friend. Reality washed over her quickly and for a moment she stood lifelessly. She normally changed clothes in the dark and away from the mirror, but with the merrymaking and happiness, she had forgotten all about it.

It had been over a year since Newt had been expelled. She briefly wondered what he was doing at that current moment in time as she touched the scar gently. It was slowly beginning to fade. When she had first returned to the dormitory, the other girls wanted to see it desperately. Sylvia remembered thinking they could have one if they wanted – if they were willing to pay the price for it.

Sylvia went to bed a little sadder that night. It was nothing she wasn't used to.

* * *

 _(July 2nd, 7th Year)_

"Move closer!"

Sylvia huddled a little closer to Malvin, their graduation caps touching.

"And... smile!"

Sylvia smiled widely, though she spied Malvin out of the corner of her eye pulling an absurd face. A blinding flash went off, which took Sylvia several moments to blink out of her eyes. Malvin reacted as if he had been shot, much to the photographer's amusement. Sylvia had a deep-set feeling of déjà vu.

"Brilliant." The photographer said. "Another one?"

"Definitely!" Malvin called over the excitement of the courtyard. "I've got a great idea!"

He turned to Sylvia. "Pretend to strangle me."

"What?" Sylvia blinked. She saw the crazed enjoyment on Malvin's flat features and couldn't bring herself to deny him the pleasure. "...Only pretend?"

"Oh, shut it you." Malvin laughed as they stood in position. Sylvia clasped her hands around his neck, lightly, and Malvin tilted back with his tongue hanging lopsided out of his mouth – much like an over-excited Labrador. Sylvia had to stifle her laugh and focused on her angry face. It was surprisingly hard to pull off when she felt a little lighter than she had in years.

"A little unusual, but I'm sure your grandchildren will find it most hysterical." The photographer commented as he removed himself from the camera's blanket.

"Pfft," Malvin scoffed loudly.

Sylvia chuckled as her eyes scanned the sun-bathed courtyard. The seventh-year students from every house were outside, dressed in graduation robes, having their last mementoes of the school taken. One boy was having a picture taken of him pretending to be cursed by their Defence Against the Dark Art's professor. Sylvia smiled at the scene - until her eyes landed on a lone figure sitting on a bench.

Leta sat alone, her arms folded neatly in her lap as she also observed the scene in front of her.

Sylvia often saw her alone. While Sylvia had Malvin and a select few other friends to fall back on, she realised Leta had... no-one. Even on her last day.

A strange feeling settled in the bottom of Sylvia's stomach. Pity?

"Why don't you take a picture with Anderson?" Sylvia said. Malvin raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm going to see if Bettie wants one."

"Sure?" Malvin said slowly, his eyes narrowed. "See you in a mo'." Malvin walked off, hunting through the crowd for his friend. Sylvia waited until he was lost in the thick of students before she went walking over to the bench.

Leta didn't notice Sylvia's presence until she sat down.

"Strange to think this will be our last full day here." Sylvia stared around the stone structures of the courtyard. "It feels like a lifetime."

Leta nodded and smiled. Sylvia glanced at her.

While Leta had tried her best to retrieve her polite, 'pleasant' resting face that only a pure-blood could perfect, Sylvia could still see the cracks in the facade. It seemed what happened had damaged her badly, arguably worse than herself.

"Want a picture?" Sylvia said through slightly gritted teeth. The words came out in a rush of air as she was scared that if she didn't get them out quickly, they wouldn't come out at all. Leta stared at her as if Sylvia had just propositioned her. "I promise I photograph better than I look."

Leta completely missed the joke and continued to stare blankly as Sylvia stood up. She spied the small scar on her upper lip.

"For old times sake," Sylvia said quietly, as she held out of her hand.

Leta grasped it lightly as she stood. Sylvia vaguely remembered her confident grip when they first met in the girl's bathroom. Compared to then, it was like trying to hold hands with the wind.

Leta stood up and stared deeply into Sylvia's face, evidently afraid this was all a cruel joke. When no punchline came, Leta repeated her words quietly.

"For old times sake."

They walked towards the photographer that had previously taken Sylvia and Malvin's picture and waited for his attention. Even the photographer looked at them oddly.

"Well, stand over there..." He mumbled.

Leta and Sylvia stood in position. Leta looked incredibly awkward standing next to Sylvia.

Sylvia rolled her eyes. She wrapped one arm around the smaller witches shoulder. She flinched.

"For Newt," Sylvia whispered to her.

Leta wrapped her arm around Sylvia's waist. They both smiled.

To anyone who didn't know their history – Leta and Sylvia looked like awkward, yet friendly, acquaintances. They were not, even by Sylvia's standards, but she recalled the note that Newt had left her. She wouldn't forgive herself if she couldn't even _pretend_ to be nice, even after what Leta had done. They both owed Newt that much.

"And..." The photographer called.

The flash went off.

"There. These pictures will be mailed to you over the holidays."

Sylvia thanked him and removed herself from Leta. She looked very shy.

They walked away a little together.

"Thank you." Leta broke the silence first. "For that. I don't think I could bear to take one on my own."

"It's quite alright," Sylvia said. She wasn't exactly going to frame it and put it in her yearbook, but she was glad she put aside her feelings and asked her. Leta seemed grateful. She did have an idea what to do with the picture, though.

There was a call for group photos for the different houses. Gryffindor was first.

"I'll see you around," Sylvia said as she waved goodbye. Leta returned it gingerly.

That was the last time she ever talked with the Slytherin girl who had caused herself and Sylvia so much grief.

* * *

The boat bobbed gently in the water.

Sylvia turned around one last time and looked at the castle looming over them, slowly fading away. Most students joined her, and a reminiscent silence fell over the group.

This particular chapter in her life was over. Another one had begun.

* * *

This was the third letter Sylvia had sent in the past few months. Newt never replied.

She tied the piece of parchment to Adalard's foot, and even though the bird was getting on in years, it still didn't do anything for his temperament. Nursing the small cut on her hand, Sylvia lastly rolled up one last thing. The picture of her and Leta.

Looking at the sepia photograph, they looked very much awkward together. Sylvia's smile was undoubtedly uncharacteristically happy and she had an odd twitch in her eye while Leta looked unsure whether to look at her feet or the camera. But they at least looked... civil. If Newt did get it, Sylvia hoped he would be pleased.

"There you go, Adalard," Sylvia mumbled. The owl blinked once.

Letter and photograph securely tied to its feet, the dark owl ventured off without further hesitation, and Sylvia watched it fly into the distance.

She hadn't bothered to write an address, with the lack of reply Sylvia presumed he might have moved. It did take Adalard an awfully long time to return – and always empty handed. Or empty... clawed.

"Sylvia!" Her mother howled. "Come on, now. We need to prepare you for your Auror examination! You're N.E.W.T's will seem like a dream!"

Sylvia looked out of her window one last time, a childish part of her hoping to see Newt's kind owl – or even Newt himself.

The sky just stared back. Sylvia retreated downstairs with a sigh.

* * *

The party was in full swing.

Sylvia had been accepted into the Auror training program and was to begin the following week.

Her mother, who usually wasn't one for celebrations, decided a party was in order and had invited even her older relatives from Germany.

Her magical grandparents from her mother's side were there, Adolphus and Romhilde; her muggle grandfather from her father's side, Hanz and Sylvia's twin cousins, Ebba and Etta. Sylvia's auntie on her father's side, Wilhemina and her two uncles on her mother's side Rainer and Waldemarr and their respective wives – Sente and Wilde. The living room was very crowded and split into two sides. Magical and Muggle. Neither really trusted the other.

Sylvia had also invited a few of her now old friends, Malvin and Bettie, who didn't seem the slightest bit phased that no-one in the room was speaking their own language and that everyone was rather freakishly tall.

Sylvia had never learned German, even as many times as her father had tried to teach her, and even though the celebration was thrown for her – she had trouble understanding any of the conversation and resided herself to nodding and smiling politely.

As Sylvia retreated to the kitchen to escape the noise and cigar smoke of the living room, she bumped into her magical grandmother, Romhilde – who was rifling through their cupboard without a care in the world. She cast a glance at Sylvia as she stepped into the room.

"Ah, Liebling, no matter how many times I tell your mother to always keep Bezoar on hand – she never does."

"Are you... poisoned?" Sylvia had to take a moment to try and recall what a Bezoar _was_.

"Goodness no. I've just sat through three plates of your mother's cooking, I think I'm practically invincible now." Romhilde shut the fridge door with a loud crash. "Just a bit of heartburn."

"Oh," Sylvia said slightly awkwardly.

Romhilde was a strange old woman, even her own daughter – Sylvia's mother – didn't know how old she was. She had been a potions teacher at Durmstrang 'back in the day' (as her mother said) and often bragged about teaching Grindelwald himself. It seemed everyone on her mother's side agreed with his incentive apart from Hanna and Sylvia.

Romhilde stared at Sylvia and huffed. She had an eye missing, poorly replaced with a strange looking wooden one, and she walked so hunched over you would be sure she was trying to scrub the floors as she walked by. Sylvia felt very much nervous in her presence - but Romhilde did have a very sharp eye.

"You seem saddened." Romhilde tugged her shawl closer around her shoulders as she hobbled her way towards Sylvia. Two very shrivelled hands reached out and held Sylvia's face.

It took Sylvia every ounce of will not to scream.

"No... grandma, just... tired." Sylvia mumbled as her grandmother stared deep into her eyes with her own good one.

"Nein... You've had your share of battle – haven't you?" Romhilde smiled and exposed her semi-toothless mouth.

"How... could you tell that from my eyes?" Sylvia gasped. Romhilde always had an air of mystery about her.

Romhilde patted her face and laughed. "Goodness no. Your mother told me not long after it happened." Romhilde laughed again and Sylvia could have sworn she saw a twinkle in her grandmother's eye. "Just wanted to see if you'd lie about it."

Her grandmother took a step back and Sylvia breathed a sigh of relief.

After everything had happened between her, Newt and Leta - her mother had been informed immediately. After the threat of Sylvia losing her life had subsided, Sylvia was greeted with the worst scolding of her life – though there was something oddly proud in Hanna's voice.

"Your mother was the same," Romhilde commented as she reached into a cupboard for a small whiskey glass. "Always getting herself in trouble for someone else." She reached into another cupboard for a bottle of Firewhiskey. She poured herself a hefty shot and downed it in one.

"Did she?" Hanna had never mentioned much about her time at Beauxbatons other than her hatred for Quidditch and ice-sculptures.

"Oh, Ja." Romhilde chuckled as she poured herself another glass. "Pain in my rear. Didn't quite top yours, though." She turned towards the younger witch. "All of that trouble for a boy, hm?"

Sylvia struggled to hide the emotions on her face. "Yes," she breathed. "He deserved more."

Romhilde's thinning brows rose. "That's what your mother said too. Didn't work out, did it?"

"...No," Sylvia said finally.

Romhilde waddled over and gave Sylvia a strong slap on the back. "We never learn, do we? If you're as smart as the Ministry thinks you are, put it behind you." Another pat on the shoulder.

Her grandmother left without another word, leaving Sylvia standing in the kitchen alone.

"I hate family gatherings." Sylvia groaned.

* * *

"Focus, Sylvia!"

Sylvia did as instructed as she held the ward. Her instructor's barrages of hexes were unfathomably strong, and her magical barrier was just barely absorbing them.

The instructor lowered his wand and stood straight. He gave a subtle nod of approval.

Sylvia huffed and lowered her wand.

"That was inten-"

The instructor fired a stunning spell and Sylvia went flying against the padded wall behind her. It absorbed some of the shock – but not much.

"Constant vigilance, Sylvia. I didn't say we were done."

"Intense." Sylvia finished, as she tried to clamber to her feet. Auror training was far more rigorous than she could have ever imagined.

"For someone who faced down a ten-foot Jarvey and lived to tell the story, you're very oblivious. Focus." The instructor raised his wand again and Sylvia had a split second after getting up to do the same. "Again!"

 _How dare he?_ Sylvia thought.

Two years out of Hogwarts and that incident still followed her everywhere she went. She had quite enough.

The shield she conjured this time was much stronger and had a visible blue aura. The Auror trainer didn't look even the slightest bit fazed and continued his strong assault. The ward absorbed them easily.

After a minute or two the instructor, apparently keen on trying the same trick twice in a row, lowered his wand without saying anything. Sylvia followed suit – but was prepared this time. When the older man in front raised his wand, Sylvia reversed the spell.

Her fellow trainee's talked about how the instructor squealed in the air for weeks after.

* * *

"I'm glad you could get the time off, Sylv." Malvin smiled. The muscles around his mouth creased as he did so. How long had it been since she had last seen him?

"It wasn't easy, but I couldn't miss this for the world." Sylvia took the comb out of his hands and parted his hair neatly.

"It's mad, isn't it? To get married so young." Malvin's voice quivered as he fumbled to straighten his bow-tie. His slim fingers shook with nerves.

"Not really. Many people do." With his blonde hair now lying flat, Sylvia placed the comb on the vanity and looked at him in the mirror. "You look very..."

"Handsome? Dashing? Positively radiant?" Malvin joked with a smirk.

"Grown up, I was going to say," Sylvia said quietly as she tried to flatten out the creases on her green dress. "I feel like everyone's aged but me."

"You should be so lucky." Malvin turned around in his chair and looked at her closely. "I don't know, you seem very grown up to me. You should hope so for twenty-five."

"I've looked twenty-five since I was fifteen." Sylvia sighed.

Life had moved on so quickly since she left Hogwarts. Every other witch or wizard had moved on, but it seemed a part of her was still there.

Malvin shot her a sympathetic look as he stood. He outstretched his arms. "Bring it in."

Sylvia rolled her eyes as she bent over slightly to hug him. The height difference was still certainly there. It was silly to bring her personal troubles up on his big day.

"You still miss him, don't you?" Malvin whispered, slightly muffled from Sylvia's shoulder.

Sylvia stiffened in his arms.

"I'll take that as a yes." Malvin pulled away but kept his hands on her shoulders. "Even after all this time, though?"

Sylvia shrugged. The sadness was prominent in her eyes.

Malvin nodded.

"We shouldn't be talking about silly things now, anyway. It's your big day." Sylvia forced a smile. "And there is a very unfortunate man out there who is about to spend the rest of his life with you."

Her friend laughed, tears slightly in his eyes. "Yeah."

"Come on," Sylvia offered him her arm. "Before he comes to his senses."

Malvin wrapped his arm around Sylvia's and took a deep breath as they both faced the church door.

* * *

Sylvia still hated formal functions. The Auror's Christmas party was no different.

She also hated high-heeled shoes. There were only so many ' _Wow, was your mother a giant?!_ ' or ' _What's the weather like up there?_ ' jokes she could stand before she resulted to just sitting at her empty table whilst the others drunkenly danced. She toyed with her newly manicured nails whilst the party continued on.

"Not really your thing, I take it?" A voice spoke up from the seat next to her, it was definitely masculine. She had also heard this many times as well.

"Not really." Sylvia didn't look to see who the voice belonged to. No doubt another intern who she had never heard of.

"I'm not particularly keen either." The music poured on around them.

Sylvia circled the rim of her champagne glass with her finger. The chair creaked next to her. She wished whoever it was that was making a very poor attempt at conversation would realise she was a lost cause and leave. His fingers idly drummed against the clothed table, achingly out of time with the rhythm of the music.

"You certainly have grown since we last met."

"Is that another height joke?" Sylvia said tartly. She observed the crowd of drunken fools on the make-shift dance floor. The Head of the Auror department was making a tremendous arse of himself.

"It wasn't meant to be, though you have certainly grown, _literally_ , since our family dinner all those years ago." There was a kind chuckle behind his words.

Sylvia's eyebrow twitched. "What?"

"Perhaps... it might help if you looked at me?"

Sylvia's grip on her champagne glass tightened. She turned her head towards the voice.

"...Theseus?"

A wide smile broke out on his face. He extended a slender hand. "Sylvia."

She grasped his hand gingerly, her mouth still slightly agape.

"I've seen you around. I must confess I haven't had the courage to introduce myself again properly until now."

Sylvia let go of his hand and returned it to her lap. She was stunned.

Theseus Scamander was certainly a legend around the Ministry, for what – she wasn't completely sure. Myth and legend were two completely separate things and her co-workers liked to gossip about both.

He certainly had a likeness to his brother, but there were very obvious differences. Theseus's hair was curly, like Newt's, but his almost fell to his shoulders – and looked very neatly kept. Freckles dotted the bridge of his nose and cheeks, though in less frequency; he had the stubble of a full beard when Newt's only centred on his chin and his face had a maturity surpassing his years.

"You comparing my likeness to Newt, aren't you?" Theseus grinned. He had a very friendly aura that drew Sylvia in quickly.

A small blush bloomed on Sylvia's cheeks as she was caught red-handed. She couldn't remember the last time she blushed.

"I'm sorry," Sylvia apologised, hiding her small smile behind a napkin.

"I don't mind," Theseus waved off her apology. "You're actually the first person to do it. Many seem to forget about my little brother."

Sylvia must have been one of the few not to. She felt quite jealous of those people at that moment.

"How... is he?" Sylvia said quietly. Theseus had to lean in to hear her words properly over the loud music and chatter.

"Newt? Fine as far as I am aware. I think he's in Indonesia at the moment, no doubt researching another dangerous creature no one has ever heard of. You know what he's like."

Sylvia chuckled and nodded. "I'm glad he's doing well."

"He talked of you often, you know," Theseus commented, watching her reaction carefully. "Newt rarely talked of much else, to be honest." Another kind, yet deep chuckle.

Sylvia stared at the bubbles of her champagne. She hummed.

"He was quite impressed when you were accepted into the Auror training program."

"Newt got my letter?" Sylvia's attention snapped to back to the man next to her. She had been sending a letter to Newt every time something happened in her life. He had, in a way, become almost like her diary. And just like a diary, he never replied. Theseus seemed slightly taken aback.

"Of... course?" He pushed a lock of his hair behind his ear, appearing to pick his words carefully. "He would always dash to the attic as soon as he heard your owl's call. Ruined many a vase in the process." Theseus reviewed Sylvia carefully. "I take it he never replied?"

"No," Sylvia mumbled. She waved off Theseus small look of condolence. "I'm pleased to know he at least got them. I was worried Adalard was just dropping them in the bin."

Theseus laughed and Sylvia gave a small smile. A moment passed between them as they stared at the dance floor together.

"Well, Ms. Segovstein, I may not have my brother's good charm," Sylvia mentally disagreed. Theseus stood. "But it would be a travesty if I didn't ask you to dance." He bowed low and extended a hand.

Sylvia wasn't keen on dancing, and she especially hated being called by her last name, but just this once she would put that aside. She accepted his hand and stood too. In a gentlemanly manner, he lead her towards the dance floor by the small of her back.

He was an adequate dancer, Sylvia noticed quickly.

Her fellow co-workers talked about the pair for weeks after. Sylvia found she didn't so much mind the rumours, but a small part of her still felt... empty.

* * *

"A spy."

A large grandfather clock ticked in the background.

"Not so much a spy, per se." The Minister said seriously. "MACUSA refuses to liaison with the Ministry and we have had several reports of large magical disturbances across Northern America. If it's Grindelwald," A coldness settled in Sylvia's gut. "We need to know. He is Europe's responsibility, not America's."

Sylvia nodded and the Minister dismissed her.

This was her first big assignment since she had officially become an Auror, and she was keen to please – even if the thought did unsettle her. There were much more experienced Auror's who would have been a better suit, but they had picked her under the alibi of _'MACUSA haven't seen you before'._ The whole idea didn't sit well with her, but it was just supposed to be recon – observe the situation and stay out of the way. She could do that.

"Well, what did he say?"

Susan, who Sylvia had begun to nickname the new Malvin, collared her as she left the Minister's office. She was a secretary at the Ministry – a slim girl a few years younger than Sylvia with bushy hair and a long nose.

"You know I can't discuss Ministry business," Sylvia said a little loudly. As they traversed the many corridors, Sylvia quickly grabbed Susan by the arm and dragged her into an empty office.

Sylvia quickly explained everything.

"America? _Really_?" Susan's eyes were enlarged by her large glasses anyway, but they seemed to grow even bigger with every word Sylvia spoke.

Sylvia hummed her confirmation. "I've never been."

"No offence, Sylvia, but why would they ask you? Why not Xavier or Verona?"

Sylvia shrugged. "They're sending a couple of other Auror's with a little more experience too. I don't trust it, but this is the first big case I've been handed. I can't exactly say no."

Susan nodded. "Are you nervous?"

"I'm actually quite excited." It wasn't an act, Sylvia did feel the small tingles of excitement in her stomach. "I better start packing. The boat leaves tomorrow, apparently." Sylvia opened the door.

"Oh, make sure you write!" Susan called as Sylvia went to leave. "And don't forget your reports are due by this afternoon!" Sylvia pretended not to hear that.

She, however, wasn't expecting the big surprise waiting for across the proverbial pond – and it most certainly wasn't the obscurial.

* * *

It was exactly like Hogwarts all over again.

There he stood.

Sylvia's breath didn't hitch or hold - all oxygen in her being practically vacated her body. In her shock, she deflated like a balloon.

It was a busy street, packed with muggles and automobiles and a hazy fog of pollution settled over the scene – but she saw him through it all within a second. Her partner, an older Auror named Veticus, stood next to her, wondering what was so shocking that she stood so deathly still.

Newt looked both ways before crossing the street, a shoddy suitcase clenched in his hand. He looked... years older. When Sylvia had last seen him, he was a scrawny yet tall boy with wild hair and shy, green eyes. Now, his hair was fairly well kept, his shoulders had dramatically squared out and his gaze was sure and focused. She wondered if it was even truly him.

"You know him?" Veticus asked from Sylvia's side. He was a New York native originally, but spent most of his life in England and worked for the Ministry – a little like Sylvia herself. They were meant to be posing as a married Muggle couple.

"Yes... we went to Hogwarts together," Sylvia said in a quick rush of air. Her eyes never left Newt's form.

"He looks a lot like Theseus from 'ere," Veticus commented. "But it's still hard to think the two are related."

"Hm," Sylvia hummed, she wasn't paying any attention as Newt joined a group of muggles by the bank across the street. A small smile played on Sylvia's face. He stood out amongst the group like a sore thumb.

"Come on, we need to get back to the hotel and write our reports," Veticus said loudly as he toyed with his dark goatee. "Old Mangus won't like it if we're late."

Veticus tugged on the sleeve of Sylvia's trench coat, but she felt rooted to the spot. Even though Newt had long since disappeared into the bank, apparently in a rush, she debated following him. Did she go after him? Ask him how he was doing? What would she even say? Did he even remember her?

"Sylvia," Sylvia blinked and realised what she was doing. "I don't know what the deal is between you 'nd him, but you need to sort it out at a later date. I'm not getting a disciplinary over you, doll."

Sylvia nodded. It had been... she wasn't even sure how long it had been since she had last talked to him – and here she was, standing like a love-stricken teenager at their end of year dance.

"Of course," Sylvia said finally and joined Veticus as they started back to the hotel.

She made a mental note that when her business was finished, she would track him down and... she wasn't sure what she was going to do. She just felt in her gut, that if she didn't so much as speak to him, she could never really close that chapter of her life once and for all. Sylvia never realised the impact he had on her until that moment. How much time had she spent thinking about him since he was expelled?

She couldn't help glancing back until they finally turned the corner and left the scene behind them


	9. Chapter 9

Sylvia waited at the back and clutched the new book closely.

There was certainly more a crowd than she expected, it seemed the idea of a book just _about_ creatures and not how to kill or avoid them was very revolutionary. People chattered excitedly. The small hall was practically alight with fevour. Sylvia was practically alight with nerves.

She made a feeble attempt at trying to remember the last time they talked but quickly gave up after it made her feel tremendously old. Fingering the small scar that had claimed its place on her chin (a memento from the third dark-wizard she had caught), her brow furrowed. Would he even recognise her? His brother did, Theseus, not so long ago, but Newt had done so much more since he left Hogwarts. Perhaps the memory of her was distant. Sylvia toyed with the book in her hand. She pondered just leaving.

Newt might have made a comfortable life for him. Maybe her coming back would just drag up a well of bad memories and reveries. He had clearly moved on and moved on well.

But she hadn't.

Sylvia shuffled further back to the crowd and made sure she would be the last one to see him. Now, she realised, her choice of time and place was poor. A reunion such as this shouldn't have really been in public. She hadn't felt this nervous in years.

One by one, the crowd slowly dissipated, until only a small wizard family remained. Still remaining at the back of the hall, she watched as the smallest son handed over his copy of 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' to its author. A bright smile spread across his small face as he shared a small conversation with Newt. He seemed more than happy to write a rather long and complicated message in the books first pages. The son jumped in ecstasy, turning to his mother and chattering happily. After everything was done, the family turned away, grins upon their faces as they left the hall.

It was Sylvia's turn.

She made her way across the hall, her heels echoing loudly against the walls. Her hands felt exceptionally clammy. Thankfully, Newt had not looked up yet – presuming the last of his fans had left as he scribbled something in a notebook. It reminded her of the first time she saw him.

Sylvia placed the book on the clothed table. Newt had still not looked up, though his eyes flickered to the book.

"For?" He said quickly as he hurried to finish his notes.

"If you could make it out to..." Sylvia's mouth ran dry. "...a silly girl who never realised how much her closest friend meant to her, who... never realised her actions and," She swallowed a lump in her throat. "Wishes she could take the last four years of her schooling back – I'd be quite grateful," Sylvia whispered.

Newt did not look up, but his pen instantly stilled as he heard her voice. "Perhaps... something shorter?"

"Okay. How about, a girl who regrets turning her back on someone who was always there for her... or..." Sylvia's voice cracked and she trailed off. Newt had still not looked up.

"How about... a girl who was going through a very troubling time in her life and made the same mistakes anyone would have made in her position." He paused. "Her friend... would no doubt forgive her."

"I'm sure she would not deserve that." Her voice sounded impossibly thick.

He looked up slowly. They finally made eye-contact. It reminded her of the first time they met, in a stuffy Care of Magical Creatures classroom in Hogwarts.

"Hello, Newt," Sylvia mumbled, her voice barely a whisper and her brows knitted in sorrow.

"Hello, Sylvia," Newt said calmly, though concern was evidently on his face.

An awkward silence fell, as Sylvia quickly tore her eyes from the man in front of her to a tall window to her left.

She heard shuffling, and in her peripheral vision, she saw Newt stand and slowly make his way around the table. He stood in front of her directly. He had certainly grown taller.

Sylvia looked into his eyes again, her vision slightly clouded.

They were hugging before she knew it. Her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders as his were wound snugly around her waist. She was glad that she could hide her pained face over his shoulder. Minutes passed. Neither of them was sure how many.

Eventually, they pulled apart, both of them seemed reluctant to let the other go. They stood a small space apart as Sylvia tried to regain her composure.

"You have no idea," Sylvia sniffed. "How pleased I am to see you're doing okay. When I awoke in the hospital wing," She swallowed and Newt placed an affectionate hand on her shoulder. "I feared the worst. I thought your life was..."

"Over?" Newt finished. "No, no. Strangely enough, there's a life after Hogwarts, I found out. Dumbledore helped me find a place in the world."

"I don't think I ever thanked him enough," Sylvia mumbled.

"Neither did I," Newt whispered. He played with his hands for a moment, before looking at Sylvia under his mop of hair. "Perhaps... we should continue this somewhere else?"

"I..." Something in Sylvia's gut twisted. "No... I've interrupted your life enough. I just," She sighed. "Wanted to make sure you were getting on alright."

A playful half-smile spread across half of Newt's face. "You're being awfully selfish."

Sylvia blanched. "I'm sorry?"

"You may have had your closure in finding out my life is going well." He looked at her confidently. "But I haven't had the same."

Sylvia's eyebrows raised. She hadn't contemplated for a second that Newt would care what she had been up to since she had left school. Her plan originally was to talk to him, make sure he was doing okay, and leave. She had disturbed his life enough. But there he was, a bright smile upon his lips as he stared at his old friend. Sylvia returned it.

"If... you're free? I mean you look fairly busy."

"Tremendously so." Newt laughed. "But I can make time."

Sylvia shuffled in her spot. The hall seemed deafeningly quiet. "Well, I know a cafe not so far-"

"I have some place better," Newt said quickly as if waiting for Sylvia to begin talking.

He walked back to his table and picked up his suitcase. He extended his hand with a mysterious glint in his eye. She noticed the strange scars and markings upon his fingers. There were many.

"There's something I've been wanting to show you for some time. Will you follow me?"

Sylvia laughed. Newt certainly wasn't the shy boy she had met all those years ago anymore. She grasped his hand, not quite sure where he was going. Sylvia found she didn't care.

"Anywhere." She replied.

* * *

It was marvellous.

It seemed Newt had certainly learned a trick or two off of his mother.

When Sylvia had grasped his hand, she had expected him to lead her out of the hall and into the world – but no. He held her hand and opened his suitcase, and to Sylvia's very obvious surprise – he climbed into it. She had physically clapped her hand on her forehead when she realised how exactly _Newt_ it was. A suitcase he could carry with him at all times, no one the wiser, which contained some of the magical worlds weirdest and most dangerous creatures. He had a name for each and every one.

She had forgotten how much she had missed his secretive yet playful side because it never failed to surprise her.

"And you created all of this?" Sylvia gasped as Newt walked her around.

"Yes." He replied simply, as he bent down to fuss over yet another odd looking being.

"Ingenious." Sylvia laughed.

After a full tour of the suitcase, of the different 'biomes' and the creatures that belonged to them, they settled where they originally started. It was a desert area, though it looked like the creature that belonged there was gone. Sylvia asked Newt about it, as he stood at a table preparing large pieces of meat. She sat upon a large crate.

"Oh, Frank used to reside there. I... let him go recently. In New York." He glanced once at her, before keeping his eyes trained on the large pieces of beef in front of him.

Sylvia nodded in understanding as she observed his slightly pained face. It made her heart swell to see how much he cared about these weird yet wonderful creatures. It made her realise just how kind he was. How had she never noticed before?

Newt made another loud chop before scraping all of the meat into a bucket. He wiped his hands on a spare rag before hesitantly looking at her.

"How... have you been doing then? I hear you're quite the successful Auror now."

Sylvia laughed. "I'm not too sure about successful. But yes. Hence the new addition to my face." She stroked her scar again.

"I think it suits you."

Sylvia raised an eyebrow though she still smiled. "Oh?"

"You always had the hard appearance of someone who survived." He said plainly. "Now you have the scar to prove it."

"Oh." Brief flashes of the Forbidden Forest appeared in her mind. By the look on Newt's face, he was thinking the same thing too.

"Do you... still talk to Leta?" A heavy feeling settled between the both of them.

He broke eye contact with her immediately. Sylvia wanted to punch herself for bringing her name up.

"I'm sorry – I shouldn't of-" She began to apologise.

"No." Newt placed the rag gently back on the table. "I suppose I can't avoid talking about her for the rest of my life." He whispered. Newt looked back to Sylvia with a shy glance. "To answer your question – no. I haven't talked to her since... everything happened."

"Neither have I," Sylvia confessed. "She changed, you know, after that night."

"I imagine so," Newt whispered.

A silence descended. Sylvia felt exceptionally awkward. The way he had talked about Leta in his last letter, it had seemed that he had harboured no hard feelings. But looking at his eyes as Newt stared at Sylvia's shoes, she could see that it was not the case. She figured it was simply a case of Newt protecting Sylvia's feelings once again. Had he wrote in that letter that he hated Leta with every fibre of his being, no doubt Sylvia would have hunted Leta down to her last dying breath. But he hadn't. She wasn't sure whether it was to protect Sylvia, Leta or both.

Sylvia slid off the tall crate and stood.

"I suppose the past is the past. And that's where it should stay." Sylvia said confidently. Why had she come all this way - to talk about bad things that had happened previously? No, Sylvia wouldn't have it that way. "Now, Mr Scamander." Newt looked back to her with a curious expression. "There's someone I'd quite like to see again. As his... father, I think, I have every right."

Newt looked completely and unabashedly confused for a second before he grasped what she was saying. A large smile broke out on his face.

 _Much better,_ Sylvia thought.

"Right this way, Mr. Segovstein."

Sylvia laughed louder as he lead her towards an old friends enclosure. A small, leafless tree stood in the middle - an actual tree this time, and Sylvia did not mistake the Bowtruckles for leaves again. She saw a recognisable face.

Her small, green friend recognised her immediately and outstretched its odd arms towards her.

"It seems he certainly remembers you." Newt chuckled as they stooped low to observe Pickett. The wizard glanced towards his female friend when she saw she wasn't moving. "Well?"

"Oh, of course." She didn't mention the fact that she had been thinking about the time he dragged her to the Forbidden Forest to show her Pickett for the first time just so she could forget about her family's troubles with Grindelwald.

Sylvia outstretched her hand slowly, and Pickett climbed onto her hand eagerly. Climbing up her arm, he chattered excitedly all the way to her shoulder. Sylvia froze, nervous that she might spook the small being. The other Bowtruckles on the tree watched silently, somehow managing to cast tiny looks of disapproval.

"I'm surprised he still remembers me," Sylvia whispered, scared she might deafen Pickett.

"Oh, Bowtruckles have a fantastic memory," Newt watched the pair with a small smile. "Especially towards those who made an impact on them."

"Did I?" Pickett played with a loose strand of Sylvia's hair.

"Oh, definitely. It's one of the few things we have in common."

Sylvia cast Newt a soft look and smile.

"Are you returning to England soon?" Newt said after a blunt moment, apparently keen to change the conversation quickly.

"Yes." Pickett made a short noise of disapproval. "I only managed to arrange for today and tomorrow off – and that was difficult." Sylvia sighed.

"Ministry work, eh?" Newt laughed, now trying to coerce Pickett back down Sylvia's shoulder.

Sylvia hummed.

"I, um, wanted to show you something else," Newt removed Pickett from Sylvia's person and placed him delicately back on the tree. He stood and gestured for Sylvia to follow.

Raising an eyebrow, Sylvia said nothing and tailed him to the tiny room which held the entrance ladder. She spied the small typewriter she saw on the way in.

"I may have been preoccupied these past few months..." Newt pulled a small footstool and stood on it, reaching to a high cupboard. Pulling out a small trunk from on top of the cupboard with a grunt, he placed it on one of the few empty counters.

Sylvia stared at the small trunk and gave Newt a quizzing look. He turned to her nervously.

"Open it," He instructed.

Sylvia's hand twitched towards her wand, though she wasn't completely sure why.

"O..kay?" Sylvia grasped the clasps on the trunk and flicked them both carefully. The trunk looked fairly old, older than the suitcase in which it resided. She looked once more to Newt, who nodded his head at the trunk again.

Sylvia lifted the lid. Her eyes widened.

She plucked a letter from the enormous pile within and eyed the handwriting.

"Are these...?"

"Your letters?" Newt finished a strange mixture of pride and embarrassment on his face. "Yes. I..."

Sylvia never realised she had sent so many. Some of the letters looked more recent, and some of them had begun to turn a sickly yellow from age. The whole trunk smelt like old parchment and her home.

"Theseus told me you had gotten them," Sylvia whispered. "I never realised you kept them."

"There was a lot going on in my life, Sylvia-" Newt picked up another random letter and played with it, not making eye-contact. "There were so many memories and-"

"You don't have to explain to me, Newt," Sylvia said, returning the envelope in her hands to the trunk. "I understand."

Newt stared at Sylvia blankly for a moment. She plucked the letter from Newt's hand and tossed that onto the pile too before closing the trunk and flicking the clasps.

"You're doing fine, I'm doing fine," Sylvia turned back to her longest friend with a small smile. "No more needs to be said."

"I felt so guilty," Newt mumbled. "About everything that happened. It was my-"

"Stop right there, Newt Scamander." Sylvia snapped. Newt looked surprised at the bite in her voice. She softened it with a sigh before speaking again. "That most certainly wasn't your fault. What happened... happened. I can't say I can look back and laugh _just_ yet, but-" Sylvia toyed with a small jar next to her. "We're alive. You're now a successful magizoologist with a book and everything..." Sylvia grew frustrated with her own ramblings. "Merlin, Newt, what part of 'no more needs to be said' do you not understand?" She said with a tired laugh.

Newt gave his own small laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's quite rhetorical if I'm honest."

Sylvia chuckled again.

"There was something else I was wondering..." Newt began. He sounded serious, but there was a playful edge in his eyes that Sylvia instantly recognised. "Now that you're an Auror and everything,"

"Yes?"

"There's a boggart in that drawer that I just haven't had the chance to get rid of yet."

Sylvia rolled her eyes as she withdrew her wand. "Open it, then."

Newt's half-smile returned.

For years Sylvia had felt a tightness in her chest, unsure whether it was heartache or heartburn. In the quietness of Newt's suitcase, though, it was easy to distinguish between the two.

It felt as if a weight had been lifted and a door had finally been shut.

* * *

From that day on, they exchanged letters frequently, updating one another on their life's events and happenings. She never wrote an address, for Newt was always in some part of the world Sylvia couldn't pronounce or had never heard of. Sylvia sat in her office regularly, thumbing through another letter from her friend, smiling to herself as he filled her in. He needn't, really, Newt had become so popular that she only need to look in the Daily Prophet for news about him.

She had received a letter from him barely two days previous. It was the same as most, apart from attached was a delicate invitation to Newt's thirtieth birthday party. She thought it was odd at first, never penning Newt the type to throw a birthday party, but she quickly filled in the return slip and mailed it nonetheless. Sylvia very much hoped it would be a small affair.

She was wrong.

A huge marquee had been set up in the middle of the Yorkshire countryside, spells and enchantments set around it to prevent any Muggle intervention. Apparating there, she first thought she had accidentally attended the Quidditch World Cup until she saw the huge banner saying 'Happy Birthday Newt!' stretched along the huge cloth of the marquee. It was almost impossibly crowded. Various witches and wizards from all walks of life, some wearing seemingly expensive robes of silk and satin, some appearing as if they had just stepped out of the African plains. She recognised a few Ministry officials and was almost gob-smacked when she collided with none other than Malvin and his husband, Malphus. They exchanged small conversation until Sylvia spotted Newt in the crowd inside the marquee, surrounded by a group of people she once again was not familiar with. Excusing herself, Sylvia made her way over.

Newt saw her approach and his face lightened. He was wearing a humble suit, almost underdressed for his own occasion, but it was very true to himself. Sylvia bowed her head and wished him a happy birthday.

"Thank you, you're here just in time!" He gestured to the three people around him. "These are some friends I'd like you to meet."

He waved to a tall, brunette with short clipped hair. She smiled rather timidly. "This is Porpetina Goldstein. She's an Auror just like yourself."

It was finally nice to put a name to a face, Sylvia thought. She only had to look at the last four letters from Newt to have a complete back story about Tina's life. Sharing a small look with Newt, who quickly blinked and averted his gaze, Sylvia presumed this was a secret he didn't want to be shared.

Sylvia extended a hand politely and Tina shook it. "Please, call me Tina."

"A pleasure to meet you, Tina," Sylvia said warmly. "I must admit I'm fairly surprised to see friends who don't possess tails or sharp, poisonous teeth."

The group laughed heartily and a small blush crept upon Newt's cheeks. "Well, yes. This is Tina's sister, Queenie, and her husband Jacob. I met them in New York."

Sylvia shook both the blonde's and the male's hands and they exchanged quick pleasantries. Queenie's eyes reviewed Sylvia slowly. It wasn't threatening, just innately... curious. There was a small twinkle in her eye. Sylvia thought anxiously, thinking she must have something in her teeth and it was Queenie's polite way of notifying her.

"Oh no, dear, your teeth are just fine."

Sylvia's eyes widened. "A legilimens, I presume?"

"Yes." Tina sighed.

She couldn't imagine how tiring it must have been growing up with a natural Legilimens as a sister. Sylvia focused on her Auror training and made sure to clear her mind for fear of an embarrassing moment. She could control her appearance quite well, her thoughts, however, were another matter entirely.

"I must excuse myself, so many people to greet, so little time." Newt scanned the crowd and he looked worried for a moment. "I may have been too enthusiastic with the guest list."

Newt wandered off into the crowd without another word and disappeared into the thickness.

"I don't think I'm ever going to get used to this," Jacob mumbled as he toyed with the glass in his hand. "You wizards always throw birthday parties this big?"

Sylvia's eyes narrowed for a moment in confusion. 'You wizards?' She connected the dots. He was a muggle.

Queenie talked to him as they wondered off to her left. Tina looked awfully sad to see them go.

Sylvia and Tina remained, and it seemed Tina felt just as uncomfortable as Sylvia was.

"So... um, have you known Newt long?" Tina said, sipping at her glass and shuffling her feet. Sylvia almost didn't hear what she said over the rambunctious noise of the party.

"We went to Hogwarts together," Sylvia replied loudly. "And yes, he was just as peculiar back then as well." She laughed. Porpetina looked surprised for a moment.

"How did you know I was about to ask that?" Tina almost looked suspicious.

"Because it's what everyone asks." Sylvia chuckled.

"Hey, um, have you got a minute?" Tina pointed her head towards the exit, placing her glass on a table behind them.

"Sure?" Sylvia replied, unsure of Tina's intentions.

She followed the equally tall witch out of the marquee and followed her until they reached a small river that flowed nearby. The sounds of chatter and music dissipated.

"I, uh, wanted to ask you a few questions." Tina toyed with her hands a little, glancing over her shoulder occasionally.

"O..kay," Sylvia said curiously, wondering why she felt slightly interrogated. She knew it was typical of Auror's, it was quite hard to break out of the disciplined mold sometimes – but Tina had an odd aura of both stern and nervousness at the same time.

"About Newt." Tina rushed.

"I take that they're the kind of questions you... can't ask him personally?" Sylvia didn't feel too comfortable talking about her friend with someone she had only just met.

"They're not too personal! Or anything! Just..." Tina's head dropped as she played with her short fingernails again. "He don't talk about himself... a lot. I was just-"

 _Tina was interested in him. Judging by the frequency in which Newt talked about Tina in his letters..._ Sylvia's eyebrow twitched upwards but she otherwise kept a calm face.

"Well, what do you want to know?" Sylvia said with a small smile. "I'm afraid I don't know much about his recent endeav-"

"Who's Leta?" Tina blurted out suddenly.

Sylvia's face dropped immediately and it was certainly something the other Auror didn't miss. Tina began fumbling with her words, scared she had crossed some invisible line until Sylvia held up a hand to gently silence her.

"Leta... was someone Newt knew from school. We both did." Nearly ten years and Sylvia still found herself talking about that girl. "She was a-" Sylvia's mouth tasted coppery. "Close friend of his."

"Was... were they... you know, _close close_?" Tina said, dropping her voice to an almost whisper and leaning towards Sylvia.

"You don't have to worry about Leta, Tina," Sylvia said solemnly. "She's nothing more than a distant memory." She was overly keen to move the conversation along. The Jarvey's image still flashed in her mind.

"I wasn't worried... it's just if he was still hung up on someone else, I didn't want to get in the way or anything." Tina tucked a small piece of hair behind her ear.

"' _Hung up'_ wouldn't be the word I'd use," Sylvia said thoughtfully. "But..."

Sylvia went quiet for a moment.

Sylvia would do anything for Newt, she loved him in her way - but to picture them together felt... wrong. She wanted Newt to be happy, heavens knew he deserved it, she just didn't see it with herself.

Sylvia reached out a hand, and though Tina reflectively leaned back at first, once she saw that the red-heads objective was her shoulder – she relaxed. Hand on Tina's shoulder, Sylvia levelled her eyes to her.

"Don't worry about her." Sylvia gave a gentle squeeze and Tina gave a timid smile. "Make him forget. He always deserved better." Tina frowned in confusion at Sylvia's odd choice of words.

With that Sylvia dropped her hand and turned, ready to return to the party and leave such morbid subjects behind her.

"What was Leta like?" Tina called, fists balled at her sides.

Sylvia sighed and turned back. Thought's of Newt swam in her mind's eye. To her, Leta was the reincarnation of all things bad, but to Newt she was... something else. Sylvia never knew just what.

"That depends on who you ask."

"Well, I'm asking you." Tina shrugged, vague annoyance playing over her features at Sylvia's dismissive and secretive attitude.

 _Vile, hateful, naïve yet vindictive._ Newt's kind eyes flashed in her eyes.

"I... don't think that's for me to say."

"Just like Newt," She huffed in a whisper. "Are all you English this secretive?" Tina called.

Sylvia shrugged and smiled.

* * *

Harmonious laughter danced around the table. Sylvia struggled to keep her wine inside her mouth, Jacob, however, was far too drunk to care.

"Really? Man, I don't think I'd have kept my lunch." Jacob drawled, his New York accent seeping through heavier the more inebriated he became. Queenie patted her husband's arm affectionately.

Newt nodded his head. "I had never seen Sylvia so pale. She clutched onto Polly for dear life!"

Heat rose in Sylvia's cheeks, she wasn't sure from embarrassment or the alcohol. "In my defence, I thought Polly would soar upwards at a gradual incline - like an airplane," She made an example with her hands. "Not take off practically vertically! My body was in the air, definitely, though my stomach got left on the ground."

Laughter again, and through Newt's giggles, he tried to defend his late, treasured Hippogriff. "Polly," He hiccuped. "Was an exceptional creature-" Newt took another hearty swig of his drink, though Tina's eyes swam with disapproval.

More drunken chatter floated across the table as the four of them exchanged old banter. Sylvia checked her pocket watch and quickly sobered.

"I must be off, the last train leaves in an hour." Sylvia broke the news over the noise.

"We should too," Queenie agreed, seemingly the soberest out of the group. "Sally can only watch the kids until eleven." Jacob hummed and they made to stand.

"I gotsa' ask," Jacob said as they made their way to the door. "If you're... a witch," His Fire-Whiskey seemed to hit him much stronger as he stood. "Why the train?"

"I hate apparating," Sylvia said simply, proud that her words did not slur. Jacob nodded his understanding and Sylvia exited Tina's apartment first.

"Sylvia!" She heard Newt call from behind her.

She stopped midway on the stairs and turned around. "Huh?"

"Allow me to walk you to the station." He said, fumbling with his coat as he galloped down the stairs. Sylvia watched him curiously, as did Queenie and Jacob. Tina must have remained in her apartment.

The three said their goodbyes outside of the apartment complex, as Queenie apparated the pair presumably to their home. Once they flashed out of view, Sylvia turned to Newt.

"You know, I know the way to the station on my own?" Sylvia questioned.

Newt sucked in his lips, his old tell-tale sign of thought. "Yes, well, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Very... well." She replied nervously.

Sylvia had known him since Hogwarts, and Newt had become the poster-boy for rashly made decisions. You only needed to look at the incident with Grindelwald and Newt's missing creatures. His looking nervous only proceeded to make Sylvia the same.

Rain had started to fall around them heavily, and the buildings around them became hazy in the mist. The train-station was only a five-minute walk away, and Newt was quick to talk.

"I've been doing some thinking..." Newt began as he stuffed his hands in his pockets to protect them.

"S'always dangerous." Sylvia chuckled.

Newt smiled quickly and let out a small laugh. "Yes, well, I'm not getting any younger – and with the publication of my book and this terrible business with Grindelwald..."

"The point, Newt," Sylvia said softly. Her voice was nearly overshadowed from the rain hitting the pavement.

His eyes were darting everywhere terribly and his breath shook – and not from the cold.

"Well," He stopped suddenly. Sylvia walked another two feet before she realised. She turned around, concern clear on her face.

"Merlin, Newt, you haven't done anything dangerous, have you?" Sylvia whispered, a plan already starting to formulate in her head – mainly smuggling Newt to Africa under an alias and then-

"What? No!" He rushed. His dampening mop of hair fell in front of his eyes and he spent a moment trying to adjust it. "I..."

"Newt, for-"

"I was thinking of asking Tina to marry me." The words were so forced that had Sylvia not been looking right at him she could have sworn that he had just been punched in the gut and the words had tumbled out on accident.

"...Oh," To say the words had caught her off guard would have been a dramatic understatement. She stood shocked for a moment and felt her clothes begin to sodden. "Oh!" Sylvia's heart swelled. "That's fantastic!"

She left out the part where she detested weddings. She could suffer it for her closest friend.

Seeing Sylvia's reaction, Newt calmed down and his shoulder's relaxed. "I have my grandmother's ring but... I just wondered about something else."

They began walking again. The night suddenly seemed less cold, even though the rain had grown heavier. A silence descended on them as they finally made it to the cover of the station platform. Sylvia had a few minutes until the last train arrived, but her patience was beginning to thin. Newt still hadn't said another word.

"And that would be...?" She said cautiously.

"I was wondering if you would be my best man." He paused. "Best woman."

For the second time, Sylvia was caught off guard. After nearly ten years of being an Auror little surprised her anymore – apart from Newt. Somehow both easy to read and impossible to understand.

"I..." Sylvia had to steady herself on a vacated bench. "Of course! I mean, I love speeches! And public dancing. And-"

"I know you hate big events," Newt said. "And small ones for that matter but I-"

"I said yes, Newt." Sylvia laughed, finding her feet again. "I've faced all manner of dark wizards, creatures and beasts. My body is seventy-percent scar at this point." She placed her hand on Newt's shoulder and he smiled at her. "I can do a wedding."

"So... you'll do it? If Tina says yes, of course." Newt seemed to grow anxious again. "Oh, dear, what if she says no? She's impossible to read, Sylvia. Do you think-"

"Without a doubt, in my mind, Newt." Sylvia comforted, giving Newt's shoulder a squeeze. "She'll say yes."

In truth, Sylvia had talked with Tina in the kitchen earlier that night – and Tina was already aware that Newt was thinking of proposing. And rather elated about it too. Sylvia had to magically silence her squeals for fear that the men would hear them in the living room. Tina was just as nervous as Newt was.

Had Newt focused for a second and realised that Tina was an Auror and her sister was a Legilimens with no vocal-filter, he may have suspected that his lover already knew.

A small silence began to descend between them. Distant sounds of the city played around them.

The train had just started to pull into the station and Newt and Sylvia shared one last hug before Sylvia said her goodbye.

"Goodbye, Newt," Sylvia said as she pulled away. "Not even death could keep me away from this blasted wedding!"

The train doors slid open and Newt chuckled at Sylvia's courage. "Really?"

Sylvia backed onto the train with a smile and a wave.

* * *

Newt opened his newspaper, his kettle boiling on the quaint stove next to him.

Though preparations for the wedding had been manic, to say the least, he still found times in the silence of the morning to read the Daily Prophet – and even though the news was rarely positive, with Gellert still at large, he enjoyed his routine.

The small kettle whistled loudly, and Newt made his way over to it, his eyes never leaving the page in front of him. This habit had caused him many an accident.

Tina made her way tiredly into the kitchen, emerald ring sitting proudly on her finger. She smiled at her fiance through her messy tresses as she sat at the kitchen table.

"Anything exciting?" Tina asked as Newt began to pour tea. Tea certainly wasn't her favourite beverage, but since being with Newt, it had begun to grow on her.

Newt's eyes flicked towards her briefly, and he smiled back. "Just the usual, I believe."

"Really?" Tina said curiously. The tone of her voice made Newt look at her fully. She nodded to the front page.

Newt raised an eyebrow and closed the paper. He read the headline out loud.

"Gellert still at large, several wizards killed." Newt hummed as he passed Tina her cup. "It seems to be the recurring story at the moment." He opened the newspaper again and returned to reading his previous article, still standing and leaning against the kitchen counter.

Tina raised her tea to her lips and agreed mentally. She eyed the large picture of Gellert in on the front page, his cold eyes-piercing as the picture moved. Being an Auror herself, she had heard of the British operation to storm Nurmengard, the prison Grindelwald had built especially for his enemies. She had also heard it was a suicide mission. Tina presumed that's what the article was about.

Sipping her tea, she scanned the page and noticed several pictures at the bottom, she presumed the deceased - their Ministry-taken photographs looking proud. They were all ages, some looking barely out of school, some the same ages and Newt and herself, and some looking as if they would like nothing better than to retire. Their full names were below their corresponding photograph. One man's name nearly took up three lines. A cold feeling settled in her stomach when she realised that could have easily been her. Or Newt.

She went to raise her tea to her lips again. The mug paused in front of her mouth.

"Newt?"

"Isn't it odd?" Newt rambled, barely aware she had spoken. "They print the Quidditch results at the back. Surely as our national sport, they should be somewhere-"

"Newt," Tina said forcefully, her voice strained.

Newt raised his eyebrows as he looked above his newspaper and at his soon-to-be wife. "Hm?"

Tina's face was white as a sheet. She pointed to the front of the paper again, her lips refusing to form words.

Nearly thirty Auror's rushed into the building, highly trained operatives with a nearly a combined total of five-hundred years of dark wizard-catching experience. Tasked with the apprehension of one Gellert Grindelwald and his associates, they spared no allowances and fought their way to the centre of the building. Their bravery and heroism would be remembered. At three o'clock that very morning, it had been reported they had failed. None of the Aurors who had entered the prison came back out. There were no survivors.

Newt's mug dropped to the floor, crashing against the tile.

At the bottom of the page, a small picture lay.

A tall, red-headed woman.

She gave a small smile to the camera, the scar on her jaw creasing slightly as she did so. The picture looped. She looked content.

 _"Goodbye, Newt," Sylvia said as she pulled away. "Not even death could keep me away from this blasted wedding!"_

It had been one of the only lies Sylvia had ever told.


	10. Chapter 10

It was a small affair.

Of course it was, thought Newt solemnly.

In a small chapel in Wales, mourners gathered in the quietness of the valleys. Newt recognised a few of them; Malvin and his husband sat towards the front of the pews, their hands clasped together tightly as Sylvia's old friend tried his hardest to squint his eyes and quell his tears – his normally bright blonde hair looking a sadder shade of ash in the dust of the building. Sylvia's mother greeted the grieved at the doorway, her eyes tired and sunken, though her back straight and proud. Her jaw was set in a firm line, her lips even firmer as she shared polite greetings. To Newt's knowledge, Fredrik had died some months before Sylvia. There were a few old school-friends he noticed, and Sylvia's old Defence Against the Dark Art's professor who Newt was faintly surprised to see still walking.

Several Ministry officials attended, more to show face than to honour those that they had sent so willingly to their death. Newt sat silently at the back. The atmosphere was thick and heavy, though the sky was bright outside. And odd contrast for such a sad day. Newt didn't bring his fiance, who had insisted she come for support. Newt met Sylvia alone – and he would say goodbye alone. She never did care for groups anyway.

The service was small yet meaningful, and after a few prayers and a eulogy by Sylvia's mother – it was over. Sylvia had insisted on being cremated.

As Newt filed out with the rest of Sylvia's family, friends and acquaintances; into the blinding sun and cool breeze, he noticed Hanna waiting by the gate that lead out of the small graveyard.

"Newt Scamander, yes?" Hanna greeted, her thin, bony hands clasped neatly in front of her. Newt nodded. A cold feeling settled in his stomach as he saw Sylvia's likeness in her mothers face. He settled for looking just behind her. "Walk with me, there's something that needs to be said."

They walked nearly a foot apart, following a small stream that flowed. Birds tweeted around them. Summer was in full swing, and yet to Newt, it had never seemed colder.

"I'm... not sure where to start," Hanna began, as she tucked a loose strand of grey hair behind her ear. Her hand shook. Newt walked silently with her. "Sylvia..." Her voice quaked and she stopped walking. She took a breath before looking Newt squarely in the face.

"She thought the world of you," She said so quietly that the gentle bubbling of the stream nearly overpowered her voice. "You... were on her mind constantly. Even when she thought you had forgotten her."

Newt felt like a knife had pierced him. He took a breath and allowed her to continue.

"Being an Auror is dangerous work. Dangerous, and lonely." Hanna let out a sigh, tears building in her eyes. "I was so incredibly proud of her when she was accepted. My daughter, following in my footsteps," Her voice broke again. " _Had I known..._ "

"Sylvia was the bravest woman I have ever had the honour of knowing," Newt said unabashedly. "Loyal to a fault. I don't think she would have had... this... any other way."

Hanna nodded her agreement, a sad smile beginning to form on her features.

"As Auror's, we're prepared for death," Hanna whispered. "It's a career few live long in." She let out another shuddering breath before reaching for her purse. "She wanted you to have this." Sylvia's mother held reached into her bag and produced a small box. "It's not officially in her will, but she told me you'd know what it was."

Newt took the box from Hanna's hand slowly, his eyes registering what it was but his brain refusing to follow.

It was a small jewellery box. It had an engraved Hippogriff on the front.

The magizoologist held it in his fingers, which without his notice had begun to quiver. He opened the lid gingerly. A small note lay inside.

"Sylvia didn't have much to give - she didn't really care for material things." Hanna huffed. "A lot like her father. But she was adamant you have this, in the event of her... death."

Newt nodded as he closed the lid again, a small sob rising in his throat as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Sylvia believed those that died never really leave us." Hanna adjusted the bag on her shoulder. "I share that same sentiment. I think if Sylvia was to spend the afterlife watching over anyone..."

She didn't need to finish the sentence, Newt understood.

"Just like she spent her life." Newt breathed.

Hanna and Newt parted ways then. Hanna returned to the chapel to oversee the ashes burial, and Newt remained where he stood, the small box still held between his hands.

In that moment, nothing seemed to exist apart from him, and the present he had gifted his friend all those years ago.

There were still cracks on it, where it had been repaired poorly after it had been broken, and some of the Hippogriff's engravings had been worn away through age. The polish had rubbed away on the lid in the shape of fingertips. Newt ran his own fingers over them. He wondered how many times Sylvia had used it.

He walked to a small bench that sat nearby, in no better condition than the box that was in his hands, and sat down. Shaded from the harsh sun by a large oak, he summoned his own courage. Newt retrieved the small note from inside and opened it.

It was old. The black ink had worn to a light grey and the page had yellowed and creased terribly.

Newt closed his eyes for a second, unsure whether he was strong enough to read the words yet. Would it be rubbing salt in a gaping wound?

He opened his eyes. Curiosity always did get the better of him.

 _Newt,_

 _I hate cliche's, but there's no other way to word this. If you're reading this, then I have more than likely been captured, or died. Merlin, that sounds terrible._

 _I'm not sure what to say, really. With Gellert still at large, Ministry officials are being killed or going missing daily and the Head insisted we write these as closure. Ever the optimistic, he is._

 _I hope you don't take my passing badly. I never wanted you to suffer. That's what pained me the most those years we never spoke. I was terrified that my actions of that night had caused you trouble – I can't tell you a number of nights I lay awake petrified I had ruined your life from my poor decision making. I at least hope by the time you get this, that we have met again and reconciled. That's my only wish before the inevitable._

 _I miss our time in Hogwarts. Our sneaking around after curfew, our long train rides to London, Pickett and your farm. I want it written down that these times I wouldn't change for anything. This box too._

 _I want you to have this back._

 _I hope it brings you as much happiness as it brought me._

 _Forever your friend,_

 _Sylvia._

It was signed.

The birds tweeted. The wind rustled through the trees.

And yet the world felt a little quieter.

* * *

Newt eventually got married, and Jacob became his best man. It was a loud and joyful day, and for the first time in a long while, he forgot about his troubles or his pain. They say time is the best healer - and healed it did.

After a time, Sylvia's loss became less of a struggle. He began to forget about the pain of her death, and in its place, remembered the joy of her living.

When Newt saw a flash of red hair in the crowd, he smiled. When Newt showed Tina his mother's ranch and saw the Hippogriff's, he remembered the picture he took with his friend all those years ago and laughed. And when he saw the small, old jewellery box sitting on his bedside table each night, he sighed and remembered the Christmas he had summed up the courage to show Sylvia how much he appreciated their friendship.

He sometimes read through her old letters to him and envisioned the part of her life he never got to witness. Her memory never left him for more than a day.

She impacted him more than either of them ever realised.

And finally, after much anticipation, when Newt held his first child in his arms, the small being wriggling in his shaking fingertips, he smiled and looked into its small face. Sharing one small look with his wife, as her tired features melted into one of understanding, no words needed to be said between them.

"Hello, Sylvia Scamander." Newt cooed, his voice wobbly and tears of happiness welling in his eyes.

The small child hummed as it's small fingertips grasped at the strange new world around it, and Newt once again remembered his old friend from the warm Hogwarts classroom all those years ago.


	11. Authors Note

**Final Authors Note:**

Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed, it gave me so much confidence in writing this, though I am _so_ satisfied now it's done. So _satisfied_.

And for the ending, I'm sorry to anyone who was disappointed or wanted it to end differently, but I really couldn't see it any other way - and had actually planned this for a while. I hope it didn't feel like a cop-out, I know some people can get angry when a story doesn't end happily and feel like it's a cheap pull for emotion. I pray this didn't seem that way.

Also if anyone's into listening to music whilst they read, I highly recommend ' **the end to all our exploring** ' by **Max Richter** for the final two chapters. Aptly named, I guess.

Thank you, everyone, once again!


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